


paper bags and plastic hearts

by chunji



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse, Gen, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, What Have I Done, drug mention, i love chaos, so much drama, so much ships, you KNOW this is just going to get messy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-09
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-01 15:48:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 36,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10193327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chunji/pseuds/chunji
Summary: seungcheol gets a new car and drags everyone out for a roadtrip. that's it.except no one can really tell what could happen over the course of a single weekend.





	1. tonight will change our lives

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> organizing an event is a lot harder than it seems. especially with twelve other uncooperative fucks.

 

"guess what i got?"

 

seungcheol bursts into his apartment door, expecting to see jeonghan and maybe _one_ of their friends - _not four_. soonyoung and seokmin are sprawled on the floor, putting together a relatively large jigsaw puzzle of what seems to be a montage of disney characters; mingyu is rummaging through the fridge; wonwoo is on the couch reading a romance novel, and jeonghan is snoring quietly on his lap, stirring only after the door hits the wall at seungcheol's rather loud entrance.

 

wonwoo slowly looks up from his book, expression disinterested. "a venereal disease?"

 

jeonghan gasps at this, snapping up into a sitting position so fast he gives himself a headache. he looks at seungcheol incredulously. " _seungcheol!_ "

 

" _what?_ " seungcheol responds in disbelief, shutting the door behind him, and taking a spot on the couch between wonwoo and jeonghan. "what the fuck? no, i got my new car. i told you this before i left."

 

jeonghan's shoulders slacken at this, and he leans against the back of the small couch, now made uncomfortable with seungcheol's thighs forcefully squeezed between him and wonwoo. "if you told me this before 3pm, i probably wasn't listening."

 

"whatever," seungcheol says, rolling his eyes because conversations get absolutely nowhere when there's more than three of them in one room. however, he clears his throat, tries to get everyone's attention. "you know what this means, right?" he tries, urges everyone present to at least humor him _just this once_. "a new car means..?"

 

most of soonyoung's attention is still turned to the puzzle as he picks out the frame from the mess of a pile. "that you stole it?"

 

mingyu comes back with a bag of chips in his hands - seungcheol's pizza-flavored ones that jeonghan abhors and calls him a disgusting fuck for. _no one likes pizza-flavored anything that isn't **actually** pizza_.

 

"look, this conversation isn't going in the direction i want it to," seungcheol admits. he pushes himself off the couch, eyes everyone in the room. no one is paying much attention to him, but what's new? no respect for him whatsoever.

 

"so what does the new car mean?" mingyu decides to ask, on behalf of team asshole. jeonghan sees him stuffing his mouth with artificial pizza flavoring and almost vomits.

 

" _thank you_ , mingyu." at least one of them cares enough to ask. "we're going on a roadtrip!"

 

wonwoo's brow creases, and he closes his book. _finally_. jeonghan yawns. wonwoo asks, "to where?"

 

with a shrug, seungcheol admits, "i don't know. where do you, guys, wanna go?"

 

seokmin pushes himself off the floor and into a sitting position. "maybe we should ask joshua. doesn't he go to those weird retreats in the outskirts of the city?" he has a pile of jigsaw pieces in his palm. "sounds sketchy, but worth a shot."

 

"where did you even get that?"

 

"joshua told us--"

 

"no, the puzzle."

 

jeonghan lazily raises a hand, to speak or to stretch. "it's mine. never got to open it, and they won't shut up so i gave it to them."

 

not surprising. "well, okay. jeonghan, can you ask joshua where we can hang out this weekend? preferably somewhere two to three hours away from here."

 

"yeah, sure. whatever. i'll call him tomorrow morning."

 

seungcheol struts over to where mingyu sits on a lone single couch. he reaches into the bag of chips - _his_ bag of chips. "where's joshua, anyway?"

 

"he told me he was working late until tomorrow night." soonyoung's attention span doesn't last long enough for them to even finish a fourth of the puzzle. he's leaning against the side of the couch now. "he's got a deadline." seokmin, on the other hand, takes it upon himself to continue where soonyoung left off. seungcheol could see the bright red of the little mermaid's hair.

 

"what are you all even doing here? it's like 9pm."

 

"jeonghan said i could come over," wonwoo simply answers.

 

"wonwoo said i _should_ come over," mingyu adds.

 

"these two just came from work." jeonghan nods to soonyoung and seokmin, who both offer seungcheol a wide smile. "said they had a day-off tomorrow."

 

"why is it always _my_ damn house?"

 

wonwoo stuffs his book into his duffel bag, replies with a small shrug. "because jeonghan lives here, too."

 

figures.

 

\-----

 

everyone likes joshua.

 

he's the designated driver; the _one_ guy in a group of thirteen that voluntarily stays sober, and relays your night of mistakes while also helping you cure your head-splitting hangover the next morning; he'll watch you do the stupidest things but won't stop you for it, not because it's fun (it's jihoon that gets a kick out of watching people standing on the edge of death), but because he knows you're a fucking adult, and if you break your back and lose your ability to walk, it'll be on _you_ ; most importantly, he's the friend that will bail you out of jail, which he's done for mingyu _twice_. (it's an unspoken rule that jeonghan is the one assigned to bail wonwoo out.)

 

joshua is the responsible friend that tells you to drink water instead of alcohol, and will sniff the punch before he drinks it to make sure no one spiked it.

 

everyone loves joshua. some of them call him jisoo - affectionately, or so they say. seungkwan claims it's because their native tongues aren't sophisticated enough to pronounce such an american name.

 

it's more biblical than american, joshua wants to say, but instead he smiles. that's what joshua does. smile. _a lot_. it sends mingyu down into a terrifying spiral of guilt.

 

it's always a question - albeit unraised - how joshua came to date jeonghan. maybe there's a wild side to him. wonwoo thinks joshua is living vicariously through his boyfriend who spends sunday mornings dying from a mind-numbing hangover instead of singing praises during 9am mass.

 

"what's up, buttercup?"

 

jeonghan groans from the other end of the line. "we talked about this."

 

"what's the plan, peter pan?"

 

joshua snickers quietly; he can imagine jeonghan rolling his eyes. "look, seungcheol thinks he's a dad and wants to take the kids on a roadtrip."

 

"oh, he got his new car?" joshua shut off his laptop to focus on the conversation. it's getting late. he'll finish work tomorrow.

 

"mhmm. now he wants you to decide where to go. all thirteen of us. as if we can fit in his tiny fucking suv."

 

joshua frowns at this. "why me?"

 

jeonghan is lying in bed while seungcheol takes a shower. they share a room, but not beds. "because you always go to those shady retreats that's held two hours away from the city."

 

joshua sighs, runs a palm down his face. "well, i mean," he tries. "i mean they're mostly quiet places. you know? _zen?_ " they're mostly churches, joshua wants to add.

 

"i'll tell him that."

 

"i'll ask around, though. seungkwan's probably the best person to ask." he chuckles, shaking his head. "i don't know why seungcheol would suggest me."

 

"maybe he wants some wholesome fun this time around."

 

this makes joshua laugh, and jeonghan's heart skips a beat. he won't admit it, however. jeonghan has too much pride for that, but he wishes he could have saved the sound on his phone. "should i bring the odyssey, or is mingyu taking his van?" he pauses, remembering something. "did mingyu get his license back?"

 

it's jeonghan's turn to laugh this time. "you think that'll stop him?"

 

\-------

 

mingyu is full of bright ideas.

 

bright meaning it involves fire, and even _fireworks_ at one point. when seungcheol tells him potentially explosive items aren't allowed on the trip, he visibly sulks. it's a sad sight, especially for someone as tall as him, but jihoon is having none of it.

 

"are we taking your sad excuse for a van?"

 

jeonghan answers, "he doesn't have his license."

 

"christ, mingyu. when did you ever?"

 

seungcheol stuffs a few pieces of french fries into his mouth before slumping back into his seat. "well, shit. the car ain't gonna fit 13 people unless some of you want to ride on the roof."

 

"or a wagon," wonwoo volunteers. "we can tie it to the back, threaten to push mingyu off when he starts shit."

 

"minghao's probably gonna push him off regardless," jihoon adds helpfully, dipping his own fries into a small pool of ketchup.

 

mingyu pouts. he's like a labrador retriever puppy - the huge ones who forget that they aren't so much a puppy anymore yet still has the audacity to jump on your lap. it can get suffocating after awhile. wonwoo can vouch for it. minghao can, too.

 

"can't joshua drive the van?" seungcheol asks helplessly, trying to revert back to their original topic. it's hopeless to even try to make plans with two people, what more five? or worse, _thirteen?_ this is the exact reason why seungcheol only invites five people (at most) at a time whenever they're making plans. the last time all twelve of them were present (vernon was on his phone ninety percent of the time; seungcheol counted his participation as void), they got banned from a fast food chain. jihoon's favorite fast food chain.

 

"i can ask him," jeonghan volunteers, red straw of his half-empty soda cup pressed against his lips. "honestly, i don't understand the point of you even having his number if none of you are going to use it."

 

wonwoo finishes off his cheeseburger, replies with a stuffed mouth, "he's all our second emergency contact."

 

"who's the first one?"

 

jihoon pops a french fry into his mouth, nonchalantly answers, "seungcheol."

 

the aforementioned party can only look at the whole table blankly. he wants to say he's surprised, but he isn't. _at all_.

 

"jeonghan's actually mine," wonwoo adds.

 

jeonghan smiles, all teeth and bright eyes. "you sure know how to make me feel special." and a pause. jeonghan instantaneously drops the cheerful facade. "however, i request you to remove me as your emergency contact. like, _right now._ "

 

wonwoo feigns thought as he sips on his almost empty soda cup, ice rattling against the plastic material. jeonghan winces at the sound. finally, wonwoo puts the cup back down on the table. " _no_."

 

jeonghan flips him off.

 

" _christ_ ," jihoon mutters, perpetually agitated. "if no one's driving that fucking van, then i will."

 

mingyu forgets to bite his tongue. "you won't reach the gas pedal."

 

before jihoon can do anything else, like stab a straw through mingyu's eye socket, jeonghan raises his voice, "alright - fucking _stop_. i'll ask joshua if he can drive."

 

\------

 

joshua agrees to drive.

 

it doesn't take much for joshua to agree to, well, just about _anything_ that doesn't involve murder. or arson. or drugs. or alcohol. joshua's also the safest driver they have. the fact that mingyu is ranked second on their list should say something about their entire group's driving skills.

 

vernon prefers to skateboard.

 

"i told you not to bring that damn thing." seungcheol reprimands him the way a dad would. "there's no fucking space."

 

"chill out. i'm riding with joshua."

 

"josh, are you gonna fucking let him bring his skateboard?"

 

the reason seungcheol is so adamant about it is because vernon is one of the most reckless people he knows. with a skateboard, or anything with wheels for that matter, he's basically a liability. they had to borrow money from jihoon because vernon broke a boutique window.

 

joshua pauses activity - he's in the middle of checking the breaks and accelerator in case mingyu forgot to tell him they're broken; wouldn't be the first time - to look over his shoulder. to answer the question, he merely shrugs before resuming his search for any and everything that's wrong with the vehicle. he finds a shoe in the glove compartment but doesn't question it. doesn't bother taking it out, either.

 

despite the lack of respect received on the daily, in the end, seungcheol is still in charge. so vernon can only throw his head back with an audible groan. "fucking _fine_."

 

he leaves his skateboard in joshua's condo unit because that's where they all decided to meet. or, more specifically, where jeonghan told everyone to meet via group chat. he had to pin the message because important details always get lost amidst useless chat sessions. jeonghan asked all of them to respond with a simple " ** _k_** _"_ if they're actually set on going.

 

vernon never replies unless he has to. they know he's there, in a constant state of lurking. they send him invites and always receive the same thing: seen on **[ time ]**. it's always up to vernon if he shows up or not. he usually does, so they don't reprimand him for it. they berate him for other things instead. like always having to bring his damn skateboard everywhere. jihoon, in a fit of rage, already broke the first one.

 

so when they checked the chatroom the next day and saw that vernon actually responded the way jeonghan asked them to - he was the third one to confirm attendance - the group chat turned into an even bigger mess than it already usually is. 

 

vernon didn't reply to anything else after that. but, as usual, his name is there, next to the words **[ seen by ]**.

 

wonwoo arrives with jun. they're carrying a large cooler between them, ready to be put at the back of the van.

 

"hansol, _language_ ," jeonghan mutters in passing, walking toward the two new arrivals, as if he actually cares. he probably swears more than anyone in their group.

 

jun gives jeonghan a nod in acknowledgment. "there better not be any drugs in there," jeonghan starts, loud enough for seungcheol to hear. when he notices seungcheol is too busy trying to set things in order, jeonghan lowers his voice. "are there any drugs in there?"

 

wonwoo snorts. "you think i'm an idiot?" they move toward the back of the van, and jeonghan opens the hatch for them. he gives wonwoo a meaningful look, eyebrows raised as if he's not buying into the other male's bullshit.

 

"cheol's probably gonna be looking through this," jun adds helpfully, giving the top of the cooler a single pat. seungcheol's blood pressure rises with every close opportunity they have in dealing with the authorities. he's so close to shoving his hand up everyone's asses just to make sure no one's bringing anything illegal. even _that_ probably won't stop them. "they're with me."

 

wonwoo's medicine cabinet is stocked with so much prescription pills that sometimes jeonghan opts to spend the night there. jun, on the other hand - well, they don't ask questions. he's basically a walking drug trade. jun only ever answers with vague statements, almost like riddles, and they're all constantly too drunk and/or high to even bother trying to figure it out.

 

"you think jun dabbles in drug trafficking?" wonwoo asked jeonghan at one point. "or runs a meth lab in his basement?"

 

"does he even have a basement?"

 

"who the fuck even knows at this point?"

 

they shove the cooler into the hatch, and jun pulls down the tailboard, making sure it's shut tight. none of them wants to spend the night anywhere without any beer. except jeonghan because he hates beer. otherwise, he'll drink whatever's there. he'll drink mouthwash if he has to. he'll even suck the alcohol out of a deodorant stick.

 

joshua suggested rehab a few times, and jeonghan only burst into laughter, leaving joshua dumbfounded. "if i go," jeonghan started. "i might as well just go with everyone else." joshua thought jeonghan had a point.

 

"is everyone here?" seungcheol calls out, and the group gathers by the van, ready for a head count. because seungcheol _always_ wants to do a head count. god knows if they don't do one someone will leave someone behind - _on purpose_.

 

minghao's done that with mingyu multiple times. during one of their previous stopovers, minghao told mingyu he forgot something in the bathroom and asked him to go get it. minghao got an earful after that. they've also left chan behind a few times.

 

"where's chan?" jeonghan asks, looking around him.

 

vernon shrugs, playing with his phone. "seungkwan's not here, either." despite his attention constantly being somewhere else, vernon always manages to know whether seungkwan is present or not. or if he's about to arrive. "i think he was going to pick chan up. or some shit. i wasn't really listening."

 

"do you text each other, like, all the damn time?" wonwoo asked one day, while everyone was out for lunch.

 

"huh? what?" vernon didn't even spare him a glance. "no, not really." finally, he showed wonwoo his phone screen. he's watching a dota2 gameplay.

 

vernon, they found out, pretty much only shifts between three apps on his phone - music, youtube, or twitter - which, he _doesn't_ even use to tweet. he only uses twitter to look at photos. his following list consists of the other twelve people in his messy group of friends, and a bunch of crack accounts. like @realcabbagefact. which makes them wonder why he's _always_ on his goddamn phone.

 

" _sorry! sorry!_ " seungkwan arrives dragging an exhausted looking chan by the wrist. the kid has his head down, hair obscuring part of his face. "apparently, this little fucker was grounded."

 

seokmin eyes chan for a moment, contemplative, as if unable to register the fact that this kid could get in trouble for anything. "for what?"

 

"arson or something."

 

chan looks down kicking at the pebbles by his feet. his hands are stuffed into the front pockets of his hoodie. "i got into a fight, okay?"

 

seungkwan grabs chan by the face, tilts his head up so everyone can see the bruise on his cheek. there is a collective gasp, and a pained _ooohhh_  from wonwoo and jun.

 

"had to beg his parents to let him out," seungkwan explains, retracting his hand and crossing his arms over his chest. "which really wasn't all that hard at all. told them vernon and i will be there. and _joshua_ , of course - because every single parent and _their_ parents love joshua."

 

and it's true. every single parent whose ever met joshua is instantly enamored by him. they think having their child spend enough time with saint joshua will cure them of all their sins and potential sins to come. jeonghan believes his own parents love joshua more than they love him.

 

wonwoo snorted the first time jeonghan told him this. "everyone think he's the second coming of christ."

 

jeonghan downed a shot of tequila. "ironic considering he's dating me."

 

wonwoo offered a smirk in return, held up his own shot glass as if giving a toast. "and everyone knows you're basically satan."

 

jeonghan squeezes through their large crowd of friends, cups chan's face gently. jeonghan acts like a mom to basically everyone in the whole group, especially to chan. more often than not, chan hates it, but he can't deny the fact that he _also_ appreciates it. _wholeheartedly_. jeonghan does a better job of being mom than his actual mom.

 

chan's mom and dad both work full-time as a prosecutor and defense attorney respectively. they are both out of the house so much chan can barely remember what they look like. when they _are_ at home, they're in the den or makeshift office, barely even spare their own child a glance, so chan doesn't bother. he's left with a lazy nanny and can do pretty much whatever he wants that doesn't involve anything illegal. hence why half of the group get really bad withdrawals if they have to spend more than a few days with him, but they'll be out of the city this weekend.

 

sometimes chan wonders how his parents even had time to conceive him if they barely have time to talk to each other. if it were completely up to him - not to mention if the school allowed it - he would have dragged seungcheol and jeonghan to those parent-teacher conferences they had in high school instead. at least he didn't have to worry if seungcheol and jeonghan would show up because they most likely _would_. it's almost humiliating to think that it's much more than what he could say about his _actual_ parents whose favorite phrases always seemed to involve the words **_i forgot_**.

 

"what the hell happened?" jeonghan asks, turning chan's face slightly so he can further examine the ugly bruise. "do you need seungcheol to beat someone up for you?"

 

seungcheol's the most gentle person in the entire group, even surpassing joshua with how much he loves every single one of them. but when he has to kill a man - " _you know i'll fucking do it._ "

 

chan pulls his face back, swatting jeonghan's hands away. "it's nothing, alright?" he ignores the hurt expression on jeonghan's face. it's fleeting, but chan knows jeonghan well enough to know it was there. "i don't want to talk about it."

 

the whole group stares at them, expressions a mix of concern and hesitance, as if they're ready to cancel the trip right then and there just to burn down some kid's house. chan loves them right back, shows his appreciation the way a rebellious teenager would, and that's to act as tough as he possibly can.

 

" _right now_ ," he adds, exasperated. unlike jeonghan, and sometimes seungkwan, he hates being the center of attention. "i don't want to talk about it _right now_."

 

it seems like that's a good enough answer for everyone because the shuffling continues - shoving bags into trunks, and arguing about who's riding which car, and who's sitting with who.

 

once everyone's settled, seungcheol does a final head count. before he can even say _twelve_ , soonyoung walks out of the apartment building doors holding up the two bottles of rum that jeonghan asked joshua to keep in his cupboards.

 

"okay, i got them --" he stops dead in his tracks when he sets his eyes on chan. "what the hell happened to _you?_ "

 

it takes another twenty minutes to get everything in order and have everyone seated without looking and sounding like someone is about to break a bottle against someone else's head. they take the bottle of vodka out of jihoon's grasp.

 

seungcheol does _another_ head count.

 

seungcheol's car is parked next to mingyu's van, which joshua will be driving. their windows are open. joshua starts the ignition before giving seungcheol a thumbs up. seungcheol nods in return.

 

finally, with windows rolled up, they're off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually set on finishing this one. this might get long, though. this fic is not exactly inspired by the great escape (boys like girls - nostalgia, anyone?) but i thought the song fits enough. title and chapter titles are all lines from the song. additional sidenote, i haven't written in so long. i thought this would be good practice. i've proofread this as much as i could, but i probably missed some things. jfnsjknkf lastly (and most importantly), i hope you enjoy!


	2. throw it away

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> get to know the passengers of mingyu's sad excuse for a van.
> 
> summary: they're all a mess hiding an even bigger mess waiting to happen.

if he had any choice, jeonghan would have ridden with seungcheol in his tiny as fuck suv.

 

"oh, sorry. 2016 chevrolet equinox."

 

"in silver."

 

a goddamn family car, as if anyone's surprised with seungcheol's choices at this point. but they never know when seungcheol might get someone pregnant.

 

"too bad he's gay," wonwoo likes to comment.

 

"i'm not fucking gay."

 

seungcheol likes _people_ \- at least, that's what he says. everyone – _every single one_ – in their group knows that _people_ actually means _jeonghan_.

 

 

 

 

it was a romantic interlude.

 

if anyone could call it that.

 

despite being the same age, seungcheol was already a sophomore graphic and visual design major when jeonghan entered college with a course in journalism. they shared a dorm room for a whole year, and decided to share for two more until seungcheol graduated. seungcheol, being the kind soul he always had been, was happy to show jeonghan around and help him settle in.

 

he definitely didn't expect jeonghan to repay him with an earth-shattering blowjob at the freshman party.

 

thanks to wonwoo who _never_ knows when to shut up, they all end up constantly teasing him about it.

 

"you're not in love with jeonghan." wonwoo teases, but there's never a hint of playfulness in his voice, not when it comes to this subject. he has this semi-permanent smug smirk that doubles as a patronizing factor whenever he speaks. "you're in love with his _mouth_. everyone is."

 

seungcheol is always conflicted between sitting quietly, _internally_ offended, or just full out sucker punching wonwoo in the face, _externally_ offended. he mostly chooses the former, saves any remaining chance he has with jeonghan by _not_ breaking his best friend's nose.

 

it gets awkward after that.

 

the tension is so thick even seokmin and mingyu are deemed speechless. jihoon doesn't comment. the jokes end whenever wonwoo starts talking. it's unlikely of him to even set that kind of tone. teasing seungcheol about his first meeting with jeonghan is only fun whenever wonwoo _isn't_ around despite him being the one to bring it up in the first place.

 

what seungcheol failed - _refuses_ \- to mention is that the moment jeonghan stepped foot into their unit, hair cropped and dark and messy, with a heavy box of books between his hands, seungcheol already found himself frozen and unaware of the breath he was holding back.

 

seungcheol can never forget the way jeonghan smiled, sheepish, with sweat gleaming across his forehead, as he dropped the box at the end of an empty bed.

 

"hey, i'm jeonghan."

 

seungcheol practically scrambled off his own bed, almost planting his face on the floor in the process.

 

"let me–" he stammered, like a complete and utter dipshit. "let me help you carry the rest of your things."

 

seungcheol guessed he was probably beet red at that point, but jeonghan laughed - loud and distinct, _as if the heavens opened up,_ seungcheol likes to say - and his whole world stopped. despite making small talk the whole time, seungcheol had forgotten to mention one minor ( _major_ ) detail - which he only realized by the time all of jeonghan's things had been brought up to their room. they were both sitting cross-legged across from each other on the hardwood floor.

 

"oh, right. _fuck_. i'm seungcheol, by the way."

 

jeonghan only responded with another laugh, and seungcheol decided that it was the most beautiful sound he'd ever heard. (it still is.) jeonghan reached out, placed a comforting hand on seungcheol's knee, and gave it a few light pats.

 

" _finally_."

 

 

 

 

too bad it ended up being only romantic on _one_ side.

 

seungcheol still replays that moment on nights he can't fall asleep. only, it gets even harder knowing that jeonghan is sleeping soundly on the other side of the room. but it's not a big deal, he tells himself. especially since jeonghan is happy.

 

 _with joshua_.

 

 

 

 

joshua didn't come into the picture until seungcheol's last year. jeonghan was a junior.

 

so was joshua.

 

the epitome of perfect timing.

 

"smug bastard was in accounting, so _you know_."

 

"know what?" mingyu asked, half his attention on finding out how many fries he could fit into his mouth.

 

"oh,  _you know_."

 

mingyu didn't know. he doubted seungcheol did either.

 

\---

 

life is a game.

 

vernon isn't fond of losing.

 

the kids are playing road games at the back of the van while jeonghan sits quietly in the passenger seat. in addition to joshua's enthusiastic humming, the sudden outburst from the back of the vehicle is enough to give him a headache. vernon just gave the wrong answer in a game of _i spy with my little eye_.

 

"the game is called _i **spy** with my little eye_." he's practically standing up, head barely hitting the roof of the van, ready to strangle seungkwan at any given moment. the only thing holding him back is the makeshift divider the front row creates and minghao tugging onto the hem of his shirt. he'll jump over if he has to. vernon hates sitting at the very back. " _not i **lie** with my fucking eye_."

 

seungkwan scoffs, obviously insulted by such an accusation, turning sideways so he's equally facing vernon who's sitting - _standing_ now - at the row behind him. "excuse me, but what the _fuck_?"

 

"vernon," seokmin, who's sitting at seungkwan's left, interjects, holding an arm out as an extra barrier. "it's just a game."

 

"well, it sure feels like i'm playing with jeonghan!"

 

from his seat at the very front, jeonghan goes as far as letting out an exaggerated high-pitched cry of offense to make sure everyone in the entire van knows how much of a presumptuous bastard they all are. the things he does to keep this family together, and this is the thanks he gets. his head is still resting against the glass window, eyes closed. he can't even nap without someone slandering him.

 

joshua, as always, just smiles, eyes on the road.

 

"i _did_ see something pink move with four _legs_ , not _wheels_!"

 

"then what the fuck was it?"

 

seungkwan almost stands in his seat, knee against the cushion so they're eye to eye. "a fucking pig, hansol! i saw a _pig_!"

 

"we're not anywhere near a field, dumbass!"

 

wonwoo, who's sitting at seungkwan's right, only sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

 

vernon and seungkwan have been at each other's necks since primary school. it's still a wonder to everyone else how they could ever consider each other best friends. then again, wonwoo thinks, it's their own dynamic. they're a younger, more hostile version of him and jeonghan.

 

"alright, knock it the _fuck_ off!" jeonghan calls out from the passenger's seat. jeonghan's voice rises along with his blood pressure. once it does, they know he's at his wit's end, and he might actually throw one of them out if he doesn't kill them first. “how about we play the _quiet game_ instead?”

 

wonwoo wonders how many hours of sleep jeonghan got last night.

 

he doesn't ask. jeonghan has been a bit antsy lately, and the last time wonwoo did bring it up, it didn't exactly go well.

 

 

 

 

"what are you saying?" jeonghan asked, his gaze quickly shifting from his laptop screen to his friend sitting across from him. "am i ugly? what are you saying?"

 

"not _ugly_." wonwoo rolled his eyes. when had jeonghan ever been considered ugly by anyone's standards? "more like -" wonwoo paused, considered his wording for a mere second, but that's not exactly a _wonwoo thing_ to do. "maybe you should consider quitting that editorial job and audition for _the walking dead_."

 

jeonghan's jaw dropped, eyes narrowed as he turned his attention back to the article he needed to finish. "fuck you, wonwoo."

 

 

 

 

jeonghan doesn't act like it, but wonwoo knows that jeonghan is very - _very_ \- insecure about the way he looks. there's really no reason to be, but jeonghan thinks it's all he's got going for him.

 

wonwoo begs to differ.

 

maybe he's a little bit in love with jeonghan. but, upon further reflection, he realizes: _who isn't?_

 

unlike seungcheol, however, wonwoo is subtle about it. some might say _too_ subtle.  _some_ meaning jihoon.

 

 

 

 

"you're losing your chance day after fucking day."

 

jihoon didn't bother sparing him a single glance, his attention on the students playing soccer in the field. their college was leading the finals. soonyoung was on the team.

 

it was senior year, a month before graduation. they were sitting at the sidelines, waiting for jeonghan and seungcheol to arrive. seungcheol graduated the previous year and only came for a visit. jeonghan accompanied him to the main office to get his transcript of records.

 

when wonwoo didn't respond, jihoon, in his usual nonchalant tone, added, "you better start doing something about it. else, it’s game over for you."

 

the ground suddenly looked a lot more interesting. "fuck off, jihoon." wonwoo plucked a blade of grass, twirled it between his fingers. jeonghan and seungcheol were walking toward them.

 

wonwoo's voice was softer then, but the other heard it clearly. "it's not like it matters."

 

the best thing about jihoon is that he knows when to keep his mouth shut.

 

 

 

 

vernon turned nineteen a week ago.

 

he drops back onto his seat, arms crossed over his chest as if he's closer to turning five years old instead of twenty.

 

twiddledee and twiddledum – as wonwoo likes to _affectionately_ call them when he's tired of their shit – have known each other since fourth grade, the year seungkwan moved from his peaceful seaside home in jeju to the urbanized mess that is the capital.

 

vernon was a weird kid.

 

in retrospect, he hasn't really changed all that much. seungkwan can definitely vouch for that. but vernon has always been just as friendly as he is odd.

 

 

 

 

seungkwan arrived in the middle of the year after everyone's already found their fixed group of friends, most of which they'd known since first grade. vernon had lots of friends. everyone liked him, including the teachers. he was pretty smart too, which made people wonder why he liked to color trees with a blue crayon instead of green like the rest of the kids in class. they ran tests; he wasn't color blind. no learning disability, either.

 

he also had rather peculiar interpretations of their required readings, a habit – if anyone could call it that – he brought all the way to college. as a high school student, it was something that sent him to the guidance counselor. as an art history major, it's an enormous advantage.

 

it was hard to believe seungkwan hadn't always been as loud and obnoxious as he currently is. but coming from a conservative beachside family ( _from an island far, far away from civilization_ , vernon likes to say; he gets a punch on the shoulder for that), he was never really accustomed to all the ruckus the other children made. 

 

on the other hand, vernon simply elected to ignore most of it, usually stuck in his own little world. vernon would rather draw and read books during break time while the other kids ran around scraping their knees and getting their shoes muddy. he joined them sometimes, but only if they asked first.

 

for the first time, however, _vernon_ asked first. to everyone’s shock.

 

when he saw seungkwan sitting on one of the cement benches by the lawn, finishing off his ham and cheese sandwich (vernon waited because it was rude to interrupt someone in the middle of eating lunch), vernon approached him with a frisbee in hand.

 

"seungkwan, right?"

 

"y-yeah."

 

"i'm hansol," he said, holding a hand out. "but everyone calls me vernon."

 

seungkwan stared at the small, pale hand before hesitantly taking it into his own. when he did, vernon pulled him up from the bench. "you wanna play with us?"

 

"i-i don't know," seungkwan admitted, shyly kicking at the concrete. "i don't think they like me very much."

 

vernon smiled, wide and bright. the same smile he grew up with, and the same smile seungkwan grew to love. "that's not true," he said, tugging his new friend toward the rest of the waiting group. "they don't even know you yet."

 

seungkwan began to color his own trees a shade of blue. the pastel blue of a cloudless sky as opposed to vernon's own stormy midnight blue. for some reason, seungkwan found both colors rather appealing.

 

he still does.

 

in fifth grade, vernon admitted to seeing people as colors sometimes. seungkwan was a magnificent orange the first time they met. initially, he hated the color orange; however, seungkwan decided then and there that orange wasn't an ugly color, after all. vernon said so. seungkwan believed him.

 

he still does.

 

seungkwan figured that if he had the same ability (the doctors called it _disturbed cognitive function_ ; seungkwan refuses to think so), vernon would have been a brilliant gold.

 

vernon thought the sky looked better during the hours of vanilla twilight, when it’s periwinkle splattered with cotton candy pink. seungkwan agreed.

 

he still does.

 

in high school, they met on the rooftop every friday at 4:30pm sharp, after club activities. they talked until the sun began to set across the horizon. when vernon couldn't make it, seungkwan secretly watched the sunset on his own. he didn’t mind. it's become seungkwan's favorite time of the day.

 

_“one day, i saw the sunset fourty-four times.”_

 

it was one friday on the rooftop when vernon dropped the unexpected statement. it was a quote, one that seungkwan knew all too well.

 

from _the little prince_ – their favorite book.

 

it's the one thing they have in common. seungkwan read it by the beach close to home, the sound of the waves crashing against the shore a source of comfort. vernon reads it to find solace in the middle of the bustling city.

seungkwan turned to his friend, head tilted slightly. he watched vernon for a moment, slightly perplexed. the other’s distinctly brown eyes looked more like melted gold illuminated by the fading light. vernon’s gaze lingered on the purple-orange hues in the distance. _“you see_ , _"_ he continued. _"one loves the sunset when one is so sad.”_

right on cue, seungkwan asked, _“were you so sad, then? on the day of the forty-four sunsets?”_

 

and like the little prince, vernon didn’t answer. they watched the sunset in silence.

 

vernon reminds seungkwan of the little prince – an enigma.

 

but one that people never get tired of trying to figure out.

 

seungkwan didn't fall in love with his best friend until the end of high school. he hated clichés so much, he turned out to be one. but he loved vernon. he really fucking loved vernon.

 

he still does.

 

 

 

 

it's been a whole two minutes.

 

"hey, man," vernon mumbles, slumped against the back seat. seungkwan hums in response, an acknowledgement. it's impossible not to talk to each other. the longest they've ever gone was six hours before seungkwan came knocking on vernon's door at ten in the evening to apologize. it was a long and difficult six hours. they told each other everything. _well_ , seungkwan thinks. _almost_. it's vernon's turn now. "sorry."

 

seokmin looks down at his hands, both of which rest together on his lap. he attempts to hide a smile. he finds beauty in positive things, regardless of how small they may seem to other people.

 

whenever there's a fight breaking out in the group - there's thirteen of them, it's bound to happen, and it does, _all the time_ \- seokmin gets stressed out. _really_ stressed out. it's evident. they try not to start screaming in front of him so he doesn't go into a panic attack. he basically keeps the group, and fragile items they're bound to throw at each other, together. as long as _he's_ not running around breaking them himself.

 

seungkwan raises a hand high enough so vernon can see it. he gives the other a dismissive wave in response. vernon knows he's forgiven. seungkwan's used to vernon's temper. vernon's used to seungkwan overreacting. after all, it really _is_ just a game. one among many they've ever played. 

 

 

 

 

a game of monopoly on a friday night typically involves secret bets within those present, whether they're playing that night or not - _who will lose it and flip the board over first?_

 

twenty dollars in. jeonghan's won three times in a row.

 

 **_in. a. row_ ** **.**

 

they can never prove he's cheating but they like to assume, anyway, because he _always_ does.

 

more chaos ensues.

 

again, a _typical_  friday night.

 

joshua's stance on the game depends on that night's set of players, and the items threatened to be thrown around in a fit of rage.

 

seungcheol is growing tired of holding game night at his place.

 

 

 

 

the van is quiet for once, the same way every other vehicle filled with excited passengers become after an hour or so into the trip. it's so quiet they can hear jeonghan snoring softly at the very front. joshua is still humming. this time it's maroon 5's sunday morning. they're getting pretty tired of that song.

 

wonwoo's eyes are closed as he leans against seungkwan’s arm, but it's almost impossible for him to get any sleep on the road. he wonders why they can't just turn on the radio, but doesn't bother bringing it up. the last time they plugged seungkwan's phone into the car speaker, they were forced to jam to ariana grande and the soundtrack of hercules for the whole two-hour duration of the trip. wonwoo figures maybe that's why they don't. but knowing joshua, he probably won't mind either way.

 

minghao is resting his head on vernon's shoulder, eyes hooded as he watches vernon play a game of hamster life on his phone. it's a trivial game, almost like candy crush except it involves hamsters. but like any other game, vernon takes it seriously. it's both endearing and weird - like vernon himself. minghao likes that about him. minghao likes vernon in general.

 

 ** _like_** is such a loose term, however.

 

vernon has definitely got minghao feeling _some type of way -_ but it's **_someone else_**  entirely that's got minghao thinking _is this real or just another crush?_  and listening to old-school david archuleta, so it _must_ be that bad. then again, that part might actually be seungkwan's fault since _he’s_ the one with pop songs from 2008 on his phone.

 

 

 

 

"i think i like someone."

 

seungkwan gasped. minghao _never_ liked anyone, much less _someone_. he's like jihoon, but nicer and a lot more tolerant of everyone. _usually_. except mingyu.

 

seungkwan practically threw his psychology notes aside - _theory of emotion_ , pretty basic stuff. minghao put aside his own handouts on _sensation and perception_.

 

it was finals season, but seungkwan had been craving for something _juicy_ all week. he'd rather hear about other people's turmoils in order to distract himself from the chaos occurring in his own life. psychology calls it a _coping mechanism_. he knows that, _should_ know that; he just refuses to acknowledge it.

 

any and all potential drama just came to a pause when everyone decided to go full-on study mode for the week. even seokmin and mingyu were nowhere to be found, locked inside their rooms to cram as much information into their head as possible. their first day of exams was tomorrow. since minghao and seungkwan’s next exam wasn’t until the end of the week, seungkwan decided that it time for a much-needed study break. he was starting to get a headache from all the coffee he drank and all the reading he had to do.

 

 

 

both of them are in psychology, but in two different fields - almost reminiscent of how they're both like as a person.

 

minghao's bachelor of science major is more research-based, requires courses that involve a lot of methodology and laboratory testing. psychology in a _scientific_ sense.

 

minghao follows his head.

 

so when it comes to dealing with any impending shitstorm, not just in the field, but in _every_ aspect of his life, minghao is a lot more practical, _rational_. he's also frequently equipped with an already well-thought-out solution.

 

seungkwan's bachelor of arts major is more theory-based, plus _requires_ a different language class. but it does open doors to a wider variety of career options. psychology in a _common sense_ sense.

 

seungkwan follows his heart.

 

french subject aside (it's easier than russian), seungkwan is much too good at what he does: _reading people_. he already has plans on pursuing a career in public relations, and minghao just _knows_ seungkwan can and _will_ collect clients left and right, which makes his chosen field perfect for him. 

 

which is why minghao, upon that realization, still mentally beats himself up for that thoughtless slip of the tongue. it’s been a year, and seungkwan continues to ask every chance he gets.

 

 

 

"who is it? is it someone i know?" his eyes widened. "someone _we_ know?" by _we_ , he meant the _entire_ group of thirteen. that was the tricky part. it was bound to get out, and when - not if but  _when_ \- it does, there would absolutely be no turning back.

 

minghao would be cursed for life. or, at least, as long as he was part of this damn group. in which case, he would _definitely_ be cursed for life.

 

minghao just really needed to get some of the confusing weight off his shoulders and out of his chest. seungkwan just _happened_ to be there during a moment of fleeting vulnerability.

 

he likes to tell himself that.

 

it doesn't make him feel any better, though.

 

"uhm-" he considered lying. "-yeah." but didn't.

 

"well, who the fuck is it?"

 

vernon's name rested at the tip of his tongue, but it wasn't the first name that came to mind, nor was it even the _right_ name.

 

"i can't tell you," minghao answered instead, running a hand through his hair. "not _yet_ , at least. i mean, it's just a crush." _god_ , he felt like a high schooler using that term. "or some gay shit like that."

 

"hint?"

 

"you'd be surprised."

 

seungkwan sighed in defeat, leaning further forward against the desk, cheek resting against his palm. they were at the student center, surrounded by aimless chattering from students who were just as distracted. "is he cute?"

 

"how are you so sure that it's a  _he?_ "

 

seungkwan gave him a look, eyebrow raised.

 

minghao thought seungkwan wordlessly had a point.

 

"anyway," seungkwan urged. "are you falling in love with him? is that it?"

 

" _no_ ," minghao answered, a little too quickly, a little too _defensively_. "at least, i don't think so."

 

"why not?"

 

" _because_..." he trailed off, buried his face in his hands. minghao really wanted to leave it at that because there really was no point in having this conversation.

 

seungkwan's got an inkling that it's vernon

 

“because what?”

 

it was as if a switch turned itself on in minghao’s head, and dread filled him enough that his blood ran cold and his hands turned clammy on the spot. minghao's next words were muffled by his palms. "because i think i already am."

 

 

 

 

it's not vernon.

 

and that's the problem.

 

minghao wishes he could fall in love with vernon instead since he already managed to fool everyone into thinking that vernon is the one he actually likes, and not someone else entirely. vernon is pretty much just bait, a desperate move to distract everyone from the truth, and his conscience is starting to eat him up from the inside because of it.

 

every night he forces himself to think about vernon, and it’s considerably easy at first – the way he smells of white chocolate mocha from starbucks, and, surprisingly _cinnamon_ ; the way his already bright brown eyes light up when he's telling a story, including the matching hand gestures he does that threaten to hit you in the face if you get too close; the way his smile lights up an entire room, so wide and so bright that anyone who sees it would immediately fall in love with him. 

 

but minghao didn't. doesn't. _won't_. 

 

because when it comes down to it, he still ends up thinking about someone else's scent (pecan pie, from all the constant baking, and a hint of peppermint, both of which remind him of winter), eyes (dark brown pools that reel him in until he starts feeling like he’s drowning), and smile (wide enough to show distinctly blunt canines that everyone seems to find adorable) – and how even vernon _can't_ compare.

 

seungkwan will disagree. _of course_.

 

seungkwan will try to hide it, but everyone knows.

 

not vernon, though. but everyone else.

 

minghao is set on keeping his own set of contradicting emotions a secret for as long as he has to, which might just equal the rest of his life. he finds it disgusting, nonetheless, because _feelings_ aren't exactly his thing unless it's anger or resentment. now he can add _ambiguous bitterness_ onto the bottom (or the top) of that short list.

 

falling for vernon would have been much easier, not in the sense that it would be reciprocated, but in a sense that it would _make more sense_. so as far as he’s concerned, minghao's already instilled an idea in everyone’s head, including vernon’s, that he likes him. it’s not a total lie, though. he does. just not in a way that has him stumbling and stuttering whenever anyone so much as mentions his name. minghao initially blamed it on attachment issues, but once the realization struck that he wanted to keep this person as close as possible without looking like an utter dipshit, he just began hating himself for it.

 

it's a hopeless case to be this head over heels in love with his best friend.

 

for this part, seungkwan has no choice but to agree.

 

 

 

 

"what did i miss?"

 

soonyoung stirs from his position at the very back of the van, on vernon's left.

 

minghao pretends to be asleep, head still resting against vernon's shoulder who's already fallen asleep with his head hanging forward. minghao thinks that's a prospect for an oncoming case of stiff neck. vernon fell asleep halfway through a level. the phone is on his lap, loosely held between his fingers.

 

seungkwan and seokmin are watching something on the latter's phone. they're sharing earphones and giggling, but at the same, are considerate enough to try not make too much noise. the muted audio coming from the earpiece sounds vaguely of cartoons. then again, it probably is.

 

they're halfway to their destination. soonyoung's been knocked out for a good hour and a half despite the constant screaming, arguing, and, at one point, a high note battle between seungkwan and seokmin. jeonghan threw mingyu's converse at them, which he found shoved inside the glove compartment, to shut them up. it's pretty impressive how anyone could sleep through all of _that_. they almost forgot soonyoung had been riding with them this whole time since he's usually a direct participant of seungkwan and seokmin's noisy antics, and is even the forerunner on a constant basis.

 

joshua's the only one left to notice that soonyoung's finally up. "nothing much." his eyes are still on the road, but he does spare soonyoung a glance from the rearview mirror. "good morning to you, by the way. rough night?"

 

soonyoung lets out a breathless chuckle. he turns to the window, watches the outside world gradually turn from purple-orange to blue-gray. seungcheol's suv passes by them. despite tinted windows, the light is direct enough for soonyoung to make out the bright pink hair in the passenger's side.

 

a small smile tugs at the corner of his lips. it's more sad than anything else. joshua notices, but doesn’t comment. he does what he does best, and offers soonyoung a smile. it's a little comforting and more than enough.

 

"you could say that."

 

the dashboard clock reads 5:47pm in bright green numbers.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is... considerably long. and full of descriptions rather than conversations. the future chapters might be more conversational rather than descriptive, though. also, the next chapter might be shorter. and might take awhile to be posted. but who knows? i thought this would take forever to finish, too.
> 
> again, i tried to proofread this as much as i can, but i probably missed some just because of bad eyesight or who i am as a person. i hope you like it, anyway!


	3. forget yesterday

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> the passengers of seungcheol's small as fuck suv hold not-so-small-as-fuck secrets.
> 
> especially the smallest one of them.

"rough night?"

 

woozi is awfully quiet for someone who's already usually awfully quiet.

 

"you could say that."

 

his tone is soft, lacking the usual angry lilt that everyone in the group is used to. it doesn't surprise seungcheol, though. jihoon hadn't said much before the trip either, and there were plenty of opportunities for him to casually insert some mean off-hand remark or call someone an idiot. _plenty_.

 

but jihoon didn't. he remained waiting at the sides until seungcheol called everyone for the final head count.

 

seungcheol spares the backseat passengers a glance through the rearview mirror.

 

mingyu is sitting at the very right. he has his earphones in, eyes closed and head thrown back against the seat. but he's not asleep. his mouth isn't hanging open. seungcheol would know.

 

jun sits on the far left, looking out the window. jun practically looks like a demigod, the orange hues hitting his face in the most attractive way possible. his complexion is already an asset to begin with, and it just turned into an otherworldly golden bronze. jun looks like he'd been personally chiseled by the gods. seungcheol is almost jealous. keyword: _almost_.

 

chan is sound asleep between the two, head against jun's shoulder. seungcheol can see the black-blue bruise from the mirror, and all he can do is purse his lips. he’s not exactly disappointed. he’s more worried than anything.

 

 _kids_ , he thinks to himself.

 

"is this..." seungcheol starts, slowly, carefully. he eyes jihoon for a moment before turning his attention back on the long, winding road. he can see jun from the backseat, the only one with ears open to know where the conversation is going.

 

seungcheol isn't sure if jihoon wants anyone else to know, but the latter's response didn't surprise him. it's just that being considerate is in seungcheol's nature, the term _just in case_ almost a mantra.

 

"don't worry," jihoon mutters, eyes glassy as he fiddles with his own fingers on his lap. it's an anxious habit. the street lamps are becoming sparse, but the roads remain well-lit by small houses and the gradually setting sun. "jun knows."

 

seungcheol attempts to catch jun's eye through the rearview mirror, but jun, like jihoon, just quietly looks outside.

 

\---

 

jun knows.

 

he just _does_. they never bother hiding anything from jun because, chances are, he probably knows about it way before anyone else did.

 

if anyone so much as develop feelings for someone else, jun has probably known for _months_ before they can even validate their own feelings. but with just one look, jun knows.

 

this makes him the perfect wingman.

 

"minghao's waiting for you in front of the library."

 

mingyu looked up from his laptop, the bags under his eyes heavy with the weight of his broken hopes and dreams. c++ was open on the screen. there was a pause, as if his brain had forgotten how to function outside of a computer program. "why is he waiting for me in front of the library?"

 

jun shrugged, plopped himself on the couch beside mingyu. the student center was almost empty. most of the students were packing up and getting ready for semestral break. "he just is, man. don't keep him waiting."

 

mingyu just stared at jun dumbly, laptop resting against his thighs. he was running out of battery, and if mingyu did plug it in, the heat would burn a hole through his jeans.

 

"i—" he tried, brain obviously fried. "i have a deadline."

 

jun nonchalantly stretched his arms over his head. "looks like it's time for a quick break."

 

mingyu's eyebrows furrowed, confused. then again, unplanned social situations confuse him majority of the time. with a soft sigh, he closed his laptop, slung his backpack over his shoulder.

 

well, they _are_ best friends.

 

as mingyu was getting ready to leave, jun called out. "get your umbrella ready." 

 

mingyu craned his head enough to see jun grinning widely. he didn't understand the need to be so enthusiastic, especially since stepping outside would be like voluntarily walking into a death trap.

 

mingyu's managed to shove his laptop into his backpack to save it from the heavy rain. his purple _("it's fucking violet."_ ) umbrella felt heavy from the downpour. he saw minghao standing outside the library, looking up at the dark, gray sky.

 

"what's up?" mingyu asked, situating himself under the roof outside the building. he shook off the excess water from his umbrella.

 

"the sky," minghao answered simply, extending a hand out to feel the rain on his hand. "anyway, what brings you here? cramming again?"

 

"no, i was cramming at the student union."

 

"ah."

 

mingyu shifted his weight onto his other leg. "jun said you were waiting for me?"

 

minghao's eyes widened just the slightest, hand dropping back to his side. _fucking jun_. "i was hoping you had an umbrella."

 

"well, i do. you ready to go?"

 

"go where?"

 

"back to your dorm, dumbass." mingyu rolled his eyes and reopened his umbrella, ready to venture into the oncoming typhoon yet again.

 

minghao stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pastel pink hoodie, the one mingyu always said looked nice on him. he was glad he decided to wear it that day.

 

they walked with the umbrella a lot closer to mingyu's head. the rain did not permit him to hold it up any higher.

 

"dude, seriously, though," mingyu started. "stop forgetting your umbrella. if you get the flu, i wouldn't be able to see you for days."

 

"a breath of fresh air, i'm guessing."

 

"nah, man." mingyu's gaze remained on the path they were taking back to minghao's building, footsteps slow and cautious in fear of slipping and getting his jeans wet if he ever landed on his ass. "i'll miss you when you're knocked out cold from nyquil."

 

minghao chuckled, shaking his head. "that's fucking gay."

 

mingyu just shrugged, offering the other male his signature toothy grin. minghao's heart skipped a beat, and he almost missed a step.

 

"come on." minghao suddenly grabbed mingyu's wrist, quickening his pace. "it's sem break, anyway."

 

"dude, what—"

 

minghao began to sprint. mingyu's hold on his umbrella automatically tightened, but minghao was too fast for mingyu to hold the umbrella over both their heads.

 

"minghao!" he called out, umbrella slanting to the side as he protectively held his backpack closer to his chest. "my laptop!"

 

minghao's hair was already flat and damp when he turned to mingyu. his hoodie now looked more magenta than cotton candy.

 

" _dude_ , your backpack is thick enough to crack open someone's skull," he said. "your laptop will be fine."

 

sure enough, mingyu's laptop did turn out fine when they reached dry land. they, on the other hand, were soaked, dripping across the lobby, and trailing rainwater until they reached minghao's third-floor unit.

 

"you know," mingyu started, shrugging his backpack off. "i really like that jacket on you."

 

minghao snorted, grabbing towels from one of the drawers. "would you like it better off?"

 

"maybe."

 

minghao froze on the spot. mingyu was too busy pulling at his sodden shirt  to keep it from uncomfortably clinging onto his skin. minghao regained his composure, and threw the towel at mingyu's face.

 

"i'm taking a shower."

 

mingyu hung the towel around his neck, grinning widely. "without me?"

 

minghao rolled his eyes, but quickly turned on his heels. he rushed into the bathroom to hide the red that began forming in his cheeks.

 

mingyu strutted out of the shower after, towel around his waist. minghao was sitting cross-legged on his bed, body dry but hair still wet. minghao looked up from his phone, and instantly regretted it.

 

instead of immediately putting on the spare clothes minghao had laid out for him (mingyu had clothes ready in everyone's dorm rooms), he opted to sit on the edge of the bed, running a hand through his own wet hair.

 

minghao swallowed thickly. "put on your fucking clothes. _damn_. this ain't a fucking photoshoot."

 

mingyu, again, looked at him with the same wide grin. "you mean you're not liking the view?"

 

minghao couldn't count the times his heart had stopped in the last hour. he grabbed a nearby pillow and hit mingyu square in the face before he had the chance to go into cardiac arrest.

 

as predicted, minghao _did_ get a cold.

 

he was staying with an aunt that lived in the city, and so they decided that jun should stay with minghao over semester break instead of heading back to shenzhen - or wherever the fuck place jun is really from. it changes every time they ask him. minghao is the only one who really knows – jun is _definitely_ from shenzhen.

 

they shared a room, like they did at college until jun graduated. although, at that moment, minghao was starting to regret this generous decision.

 

"you can thank me later." he sat on the swivel chair he positioned beside minghao's bed. he reached out, patted minghao's head in both an affectionate and patronizing manner. "when you're better – both in health and as a person."

 

minghao was too weak to argue or swat jun's hand away, and so he just glared. intimidation didn’t exactly work if you looked like you were on your deathbed.

 

the door opened slowly, and both of them turned towards the new arrival.

 

"mingyu, _my man!_ "

 

minghao suddenly regained enough strength to grab the wrist that's conveniently placed beside his head. jun turned, subtly shook his head. _not me_ , he mouthed. jun looked just as genuinely surprised.

 

"hey," mingyu began, almost shyly. "i hope i'm not, like, interrupting your recovery or anything."

 

mingyu shuffled towards them, kneeling beside the bed to rummage through his bag. why he always felt the need to bring a huge-ass backpack was beyond them. he was like a boy scout. (he had been for two years.) as always, he smelled vaguely of peppermint.

 

"anyway," mingyu pulled out a silver thermos with a triumphant smile. "i brought you something! i hope you like chicken noodle soup because i'm forcing this down your throat until you're better. i’ll use a funnel if i have to."

 

jun had to bite his lips to suppress himself from commenting. he looked at minghao with a knowing smile, and gave the back of the other's hand a few light pats.

 

"get better, man," he said, pushing himself off the seat. the chair turned slightly at the sudden movement.

 

mingyu looked up at jun, eyebrows slightly furrowed. "wait, you're leaving?"

 

jun checked his watch. "yup. gonna see what wonwoo's up to." he started towards the door, gave them a small wave before he was gone.

 

minghao _did_ thank jun. by buying him dinner for an entire week.

 

this makes jun the best wingman.

 

yet at the same time, this makes jun almost _impossible_ to fall in love with.

 

it's a talent, bringing two people together.

 

but it's a pain in the ass when one of them is someone you want for _yourself_.

 

\---

 

seungcheol releases a soft sigh before finally asking, "is this about soonyoung?"

 

he gets a small shrug in response.

 

"jihoon," he urges, voice stern but with a distinct softness that only seungcheol can manage to emit. "come on."

 

jihoon refuses to say anything.

 

seungcheol sighs. "just try to have fun, alright? take your mind off things for a night or two."

 

 _it's hard to have fun when you don't want to have fun_ , jihoon wants to say. jun catches his eye in the rearview mirror. 

 

the obvious concern makes jihoon feel something unfamiliar well up in the expanse of his ribcage. _is this..._ _guilt?_ if so, then he immediately hates it. why does soonyoung, _of all fucking people_ , have to make him feel this way? not the guilt part.

 

the _everything_ part.

 

\---

 

they're dating.

 

but they're also not.

 

this is what makes the whole arrangement confusing and an utter mess.

 

 _exclusive_ \- what expanse does that word cover? fuck if jihoon knows, but it's a word he's heard from soonyoung one too many times.

 

"we're not official."

 

it was not a question. it was an echo of a statement that soonyoung had repeatedly said over the course of the last three months. well, _four_ now. it was jihoon's turn to bring it up, but only because the situation permitted him to. otherwise, the word felt like thorns in his throat and fire on his tongue.

 

soonyoung's rebuttal was simple. "but we're exclusive." as if those words should mean something to jihoon. as if those words could manage to connect the dots, add the last missing puzzle piece in his head.

 

jihoon didn't understand.

 

he still doesn't 

 

he ran a hand down his face. they were sitting on hardwood floor slick with sweat, room humid from the remaining body heat that emanated from its previous occupants. jihoon was sitting across from himself, could see his own reflection - pale with brightly colored hair - in the full-length mirror.

 

the dance studio was empty.

 

soonyoung teaches part-time, and, with the right amount, will train a dance group and choreograph a set for competitions - college, local, international, all they need to do is name it and provide a mix.

 

they usually bag first place. if not, they're _at least_ in the top three, which is satisfying enough especially if it's the first time they've ever come close to the smell of triumph. some were originally at the bottom of the dance pyramid before they even consulted with soonyoung for a winning dance number. now, most of them are working their way to the top. much like soonyoung is.

 

jihoon misses dance.

 

jihoon misses soonyoung.

 

"exclusively _what?_ "

 

that question had been running through jihoon's mind from the very beginning, but he's only managed to find the willpower to bring it up now. knowing the answer, and the idea of getting hurt from it, still terrified him. jihoon wasn't good with pain, especially in the emotional category.

 

soonyoung didn't answer. he pushed himself off the floor and packed up his stuff, back turned to jihoon as he did.

 

jihoon was tired, so fucking _exhausted_. and so he took the initiative to get up himself and grab soonyoung by the shoulder. "soonyoung," he started desperate. "we're—"

 

jihoon found himself with his back pressed against the mirror. he felt the cold surface against the bare skin of his arms and lower back. heavy breaths and muffled moans echoed throughout the empty dance studio.

 

jihoon's jeans were thrown aside in favor of wrapping his legs around soonyoung's waist, arms tight around the other's neck for support. it hurt a little, the way his back was slamming against the mirror. jihoon felt like it might break – the mirror _and_ his sanity. 

 

soonyoung wasn't as gentle as he usually was. in fact, this time, he wasn't gentle _at all_. jihoon felt lips and teeth nipping at his neck, collarbones, and shoulders. whatever expanse of smooth, pale skin soonyoung could reach without having to pull jihoon's shirt over his head.

 

jihoon shuddered after each thrust, head thrown back enough that he saw, through half-lidded eyes, his own reflection from the set of mirrors across from them. it was a shameful sight. jihoon wanted to look away. he looked like a mess. he was mess. _they_ were a mess. they are _still_ a mess.

 

jihoon was thoroughly fucked – _in all sense of the word_.

 

"dating," soonyoung finally said, buttoning his pants. he ran his fingers through dark hair dampened with sweat. "we're exclusively _dating_."

 

for the first time, jihoon realized, they didn't even kiss.

 

jihoon scoffed, quickly zipping his pants up. a bitter smile etched his face. he picked up his duffel bag from the corner, slung it over his shoulder as he stalked out of the studio.

 

"more like exclusively _fucking_. "

 

\---

 

from his peripheral vision, seungcheol can see the purple bruises that decorate jihoon's skin like a necklace.

 

jihoon notices from the tinted windows seungcheol’s distressed expression, eyes drifting towards any exposed area of his body. as if checking for extra injuries and hidden clues.

 

there really isn't much to see.

 

"he didn't strangle me or anything, if that's what you're wondering."

 

"what?"

 

jihoon tugs his sweater down one side, just enough to reveal part of his shoulder. seungcheol catches a glimpse – it looks almost reminiscent of purple and pink petals landing on pristine snow.

 

 _hickeys_.

 

seungcheol is complacent for the time being, although jihoon inwardly curses jeonghan for giving him the shittiest available concealer he had on-hand.

 

then again, there's way too many to cover. maybe jihoon _doesn't_ even want them covered at all.

 

they overtake the van, and as jihoon continues to mindlessly gaze outside, he sees soonyoung sitting by the window at the very back row. they make coincidental eye contact, except the suv's tinted window makes the whole ordeal rather one-sided.

 

it feels a lot like their relationship.

 

the bruises speak for themselves, and jihoon thinks maybe that's what exclusivity means.

 

 _you're mine_.

 

 

\---

 

"shit. what fuck have you been _doing?_ "

 

jihoon didn't think it was all that bad. they looked kind of pretty, but jeonghan obviously thought otherwise.

 

when jihoon didn't answer, jeonghan merely sighed, pulling his beige knit sweater tighter around himself. one would expect jeonghan to wear a bathrobe around the house, but he didn't. he wore hoodies and sweaters, and this was the first thing his fingers could reach for when jihoon rang the doorbell.

 

seungcheol was working late, finishing up a project at the agency to make sure he was free all weekend. a typical dad thing to do. a dad that cared, anyway. jeonghan brushed that thought out of his head.

 

"if seungcheol burst through that door right now and saw you like this—"

 

"he's not going to see it," jihoon interrupted. he sat on the loveseat with his gaze on the floor. jeonghan stood in front of him with arms crossed over his chest, like a mother scolding a child for coming home late. but instead of generating flames, his eyes were soft, almost sympathetic. "at least," jihoon added. "not  _tonight_."

 

with an audible sigh, jeonghan stalked into the bedroom, the one he shared with seungcheol, and came back a minute later with a small plastic tube in his hand. he slumped on the couch next to jihoon, holding the item out between his fingers.

 

"i'm actually running out," jeonghan admitted. "so you're gonna have to make do with this."

 

jihoon plucked the tube away from jeonghan's grasp, and brought it close to his face to examine. "full coverage?"

 

"you could say that."

 

jeonghan was the first person everyone came to if they needed a physical pick-me-up. his job doesn't exactly require him to look perfect, but it did garner him some sort of advantage, especially since his higher-ups consist mostly of prissy middle-aged women who have botox for breakfast, and diet pills with a side of vodka for lunch. for snacktime, they love to indulge themselves with a _delicious_ amount of laxatives and self-hatred.

 

wonwoo constantly makes fun of him for it, but still comes crawling after waking up with an obvious hangover. jeonghan couldn't even remember who had which concealer - he remembered vernon taking the most expensive bottle for a performance art project, so jeonghan figured, like everything else he let anyone _borrow_ , he wouldn't be getting it back – and thus jihoon was left with the last one. the one jeonghan had been scraping from over the last week.

 

they were quiet for a moment. not exactly enjoying each other's company at eleven in the evening. it was more a comfortable silence than anything. jeonghan had always been there when jihoon needed him the most.

 

it was an unlikely friendship – two very strong, sometimes contradicting, personalities, but for that very same reason, they knew how to patch each other up the best. jihoon shifted closer, fingers curled around the tube of concealer. he linked their arms together, rested his head against jeonghan's arm.

 

"listen," jeonghan began, voice soft with a tone he only ever reserved for jihoon. "don't – just don't let him hurt you."

 

"this coming from someone who likes having their hair pulled?"

 

"in bed," jeonghan corrected him.

 

jihoon hummed in response.

 

"you know what i fucking mean."

 

a beat. "yeah."

 

it was almost midnight on a thursday. the trip was tomorrow - late afternoon on a friday.

 

seungcheol arrived home just as jihoon was leaving. he gave jeonghan a questioning look. 

 

"concealer," jeonghan simply answered, refused to say anything else.

 

seungcheol kept any remaining questions to himself. they went to bed.

 

\---

 

despite hushed conversations, and jun's refusal to take part in it, mingyu hears. he hears, and has heard, _everything_.

 

he's not exactly feigning sleep, but the exhaustingly long car ride and the dry eyes he's getting from seungcheol turning the air conditioner on max make it impossible for him to keep his eyes open. his head is thrown back against the seat, arms crossed over his chest as the soft sound of music blares from his earphones.

 

well. _earphone_.

 

one of the earpieces is broken. mingyu forgot to buy new ones before they left, and also forgot to borrow wonwoo's extra pair. so he's stuck with hearing only half the guitar riffs from every song.

 

it really wasn't his intention to listen.

 

mingyu bites his tongue. he isn't involved. in the first place, he doesn't want to be. it sounds messy enough as it is without him making the entire situation even worse.

 

he takes things too lightly, but that's mingyu's way of coping being unable to handle serious situations. maybe, he thinks, that's why they _purposely_ leave him out of their problems. he won't admit it, but it does hurt. _sometimes_. but for the first time, mingyu doesn't even want to know what's going on.

 

on a regular day, mingyu would spout out a careless comment, a question the majority would consider dumb. 

 

it's in mingyu's system to ask a lot of questions.

 

that's probably why he's at the top of his class.

 

\---

 

mingyu is a genius.

 

an _academic_ genius, to be precise. he can organize data structures overnight, solve algorithms in a snap, and figure out how much each of them has to pay just by glancing at the bill. he's an information technology major that's graduating with _honors_. he has enough qualifications to join _mensa_.

 

however, his lack of ability to make good judgement ends up making him look adventurous yet admirable more than anything else. in his case, ignorance is definitely bliss.

 

jeonghan explained it best. "smart people don't have common sense."

 

"you're just jealous i don't smell like your vanilla-loving ass."

 

before wonwoo could even burn his tongue with piping hot coffee, he had to lower the porcelain cup from his lips. " _what?_ " he looked at mingyu with eyebrows raised, and a corner of his lips twitched upwards. he tried to suppress an oncoming surge of laughter by letting out a shaky, amused breath.

 

minghao was ripping apart his croissant with his fingers. "god, you fucking idiot."

 

brunch at mingyu's apartment always consists of pastries and coffee _without_ jeonghan's morning shot of tequila. he settles for a gallon of cream and twenty-eight pounds of sugar instead. wonwoo sometimes slips him a valium or two.

 

seungcheol, looking like everyone else's dad yet again, put down the glossy magazine he was flipping through - _i'm trying to see if they used my design!_ \- to say, "they said _sense_ , gyu. not _scents_ with a _t_." he turned to jeonghan, slipped the magazine across the table. _sex toy of the week_ , written by yoon jeonghan.

 

"so where can i get this vibrator?"

 

"check the credits at the bottom," jeonghan replied before chugging down his coffee. seungcheol was obviously teasing, but jeonghan was too lazy to grab the butter knife and stab him in the chest.

 

mingyu blankly stared ahead, as if deep in thought, yet unable to register the rest of conversation. jun was passing the plate of butter across the table to wonwoo when mingyu's rather loud outburst of revelation - a hand slamming on the table - almost caused the steel butter knife to slip from the plate and potentially piercing through his hand. jun caught it on time.

 

" _oh_ ," was all he could say. there was a moment of silence. everyone just sat there and stared at him, waiting for him to say anything else. finally, he added, in relation to _scents_ with a _t_ , "hey, what do you think i smell like?"

 

the shuffling around the table continued. seungcheol got up to wash his hands, and jeonghan popped the second pill into his mouth. jun stood up to refill his coffee, and wonwoo just elected to ignore the question.

 

"pecan pie," minghao muttered from his seat beside mingyu, casually putting a piece of his destroyed croissant into his mouth.

 

"what was that?"

 

minghao gave him a quick glance, chewing on another piece. "you smell like pecan pie."

 

mingyu grinned, satisfied.

 

\---

 

they arrive in no time.

 

that's what seungcheol says, anyway. but everyone and their lower back pains and leg cramps say otherwise.

 

mingyu's lower joints begin popping from lack of leg space the moment he steps out of the car. "these legs weren't made for the back row, jihoon."

 

jihoon shrugs, putting on his backpack. "first come first serve."

 

the van arrives just moments after seungcheol parks his suv. jun reaches over to gently shake chan awake. when the youngest finally stirs, jun walks over to the van to help the others take the rest of their stuff out from the hatch.

 

the beach resort has a pool somewhere near the hotel building, but rather than staying cooped up inside with cable television and a magnificent view of the beach from the twentieth floor, they decided to enjoy cable television from bungalows with the magnificent view of the beach _right by the beach_ instead. it's closer to the sand and surf and sun. they also have easier access to the water in case anyone wants to drown someone or himself during a drunken episode of self-loathing.

 

either way, joshua will be watching out for such situations. seungcheol is just a click away as his emergency contact.

 

"why aren't i your emergeny contact?"

 

"because, chances are, you're going to be the one _causing_ the emergency, jeonghan."

 

it's a little after seven in the evening.

 

tonight's itinerary, according to seungcheol who has them gathered around by the entrance, merely includes check-in, dinner, and figuring out who's rooming with who. there's a reason why they interchanged the last two items at the last minute.

 

vernon rolls his head around, trying to ease his stiff neck. "why can't we just figure it out now?"

 

"because do you want to fucking starve?"

 

point taken.

 

tomorrow is going to be a long day.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this also... got hella long. i feel like the next chapter will be shorter. for real, this time. this was also hella angsty, and i am so sorry for that. i hope the cute gyuhao can make up for it. i'm dead on the inside. i can't help myself. i'm literally making things up as i go. again, i tried to proofread as much as i can but i am dssjafsa as a person.
> 
> naruto runs out


	4. good to be by your side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> forming a mutual understanding that no one is to have sex while someone else is in the room with them. you know, just decent human being things.

they had no reason to refuse.

 

joshua's mother paid for a quarter of their expenses in hopes that it will make his son guilty enough to come home for the holidays.

 

 _in los fucking angeles_.

 

 

 

"you should go," jeonghan urged a week prior to their beach trip, during date night.

 

joshua was too busy twirling fettucine alfredo around his fork. "nah."

 

jeonghan is in no position to question joshua’s familial background.

 

 

 

vernon's parents also paid for good amount of the expenses as a late birthday present.

 

“i hope our son isn’t causing any of you too much trouble,” vernon’s mom, as a playful jab, told seungcheol, joshua, and mingyu when they were over at vernon’s place one late afternoon. there was a sudden pause.

 

if real life is anything like the movies, that very moment just proved it.

 

the whole ordeal, which consisted of a mere ten seconds, was reminiscent of an old film reel, except in high-definition, with blaring electronic dance music in the background: a thumping bass, beer bottles littering the living room floor, hickeys on pale skin, a skateboard through a shattered window (multiple shattered windows, actually), yelling, a distressing game of uno, more yelling, the onset of allergies around chapped lips that vernon seems to experience on a monthly basis.

 

the moment of silence was reserved solely for that single cursory flashback, multiple events that merged together to form the ultimate chaotic boss monster – at least, according to mingyu when he relayed the religious experience to minghao the next day.

 

( “dude, are you high?”

 

“i hope i was.” )

 

vernon’s mom easily handed over the check to seungcheol with a bright smile, one that ate away at his conscience. on surface level, vernon is the typical teenager, complete with a smartphone as an extra limb. maybe having vernon on his phone all the time isn’t so bad, if it means keeping him away from becoming a consistent liability. the aforementioned came back from the bathroom to be met with seungcheol staring into space for five minutes –

 

_what have we done?_

they’re all convinced  that seungcheol legitimately thinks he’s their dad.

 

“what happened to him?”

 

mingyu slowly looked up to meet vernon’s confused expression. “you broke him.”

 

the check was not enough to compensate for all the windows (and glass tables, specifically joshua’s) that vernon has damaged _so far_.

 

they love him, though. they really do.

 

\---

 

**check-in.**

 

seungcheol and joshua are over by the resort counter, talking things over with the pretty receptionist. _too pretty_ for jeonghan’s liking. from a few feet away, back against the marble pillar and arms crossed over his chest, jeonghan watches how the receptionist just _casually_ sidles up to _his_ fucking boyfriend. she giggles when joshua says something too soft for any of them to hear.

 

 _prince fucking charming_.

 

wonwoo appears by his side, free hand finding its place on jeonghan’s shoulder. “you okay?” his other hand is clutching an unfinished book. the aggravating wait at any lobby is a good time to catch up on some reading, but the look on jeonghan’s face was unmistakable from the second wonwoo looked up. the frown on jeonghan’s face, as opposed to the muted chattering around them, made it harder for him to concentrate.

 

jeonghan prides himself in not being the jealous type. at least, he _did_. back when he had absolutely no reason to be. he shrugs wonwoo’s hand off, but his best friend refuses to budge, only holding on tighter. with a sigh, jeonghan lets the back of his head hit the cold marble surface of the pillar.

 

“yeah, i’m fine.”

 

the kids are sitting around an expensive, beige sofa set in the waiting area. soonyoung and seokmin are playing red hands. ( _they’re called slapsies_ , seungkwan opposes. chan calls the game _hot hands_. jeonghan regards it as a dumb ass game.)

 

minghao subjects himself to watching a game vernon is playing on his phone. mingyu’s head rests against minghao’s shoulder, like a rottweiler about to fall asleep.

 

seungcheol walks up to the group with a set of keys – four rooms.

 

“alright, team,” he starts, adjusting his duffel bag over his shoulder. “let’s head out to dinner.”

 

as they begin shuffling out, jeonghan’s attention is back at the front desk. joshua turns to join the group, but the receptionist calls out to him before he can even take a single step. he turns back with eyebrows raised in question. she says something. he laughs. a hand moves to rub the side of his neck in an almost sheepish gesture.

 

“jeonghan, _ouch_.”

 

he doesn’t remember clutching onto wonwoo’s hand _that_ hard. he doesn’t remember clutching onto wonwoo’s hand _at all_. “sorry, i—”

 

“i’m not going to ask,” wonwoo says, raising his other hand up, the one holding onto the book. jeonghan can’t make out the title. “so, don’t worry about it.”

 

jeonghan offers him an apologetic smile and a breathless chuckle. wonwoo drapes an around the other’s shoulder, and they follow the group out into the beach.

 

\---

  
  
dinner is going great.

 

a lot better than they expected – actually, than what _seungcheol_ expected. jeonghan hasn't attempted to stab a fork into anyone's necks, jihoon hasn't told anyone to kill themselves, mingyu hasn't set anything on fire, and vernon isn't on his phone for once.

 

" _what?_ " he asks defensively, using a crab claw to accusingly point at everyone. "can't i enjoy the view? the sound of the sea?”

 

minghao is sitting beside vernon, calmly peeling open a shrimp. "he's out of battery."

 

it's almost 8pm.

 

seungcheol, who is sitting at the head of the table, starts, "alright, let's talk rooms."

 

mingyu raises a hand. "dibs on wonwoo."

 

minghao freezes up. no one notices.

 

regardless, the two of them rooming together is a terrible idea.

 

wonwoo throws an empty clam shell toward mingyu. "you can't fucking do that." jun who's sitting between them nonchalantly brings his bowl to his lips, takes a sip of his soup. 

 

"yeah, _asshole_ ," jeonghan adds. "he's rooming with _me_."

 

wonwoo chuckles, shaking his head. he throws another empty clam shell across the table toward jeonghan, who's sitting directly in front of him. the shells come from jun's plate.

 

 

 

“come on, just try it.”

 

seungcheol urged, offering wonwoo a shrimp.

 

“i can’t, asshat. i will die.”

 

“yes.”

 

 

 

wonwoo nibbles on the last of his beef skewer, specially ordered just for him. mingyu tries to reach for one, only for his hand to get smacked away.

 

"can't get enough of me, can you?”

 

jeonghan gives wonwoo a tight-lipped, sarcastic smile.

 

"you don’t wanna room with us, wonwoo?" joshua asks, nibbling on a piece of squid.

 

"nah, don't wanna get in the way of you lovebirds.”

 

seungcheol snorts. "well, _i'm_ getting in the way of you lovebirds.” he turns to the duo, sitting side-by-side on his left. “there are _two_ beds in there." he points a half-bitten shrimp at them. "no sex. at least not while i'm in the room."

 

jeonghan rolls his eyes, turns back to wonwoo and pulls out the most pitiful pout he can manage. "wonwoo, _please_. i thought we were friends."

 

joshua looks up from his meal, an instant smile ready for wonwoo. there’s always an apparent sparkle emphasized by the roundness of joshua’s brilliant, brown eyes – an evident contrast to jeonghan’s usually lackluster ones. jeonghan claims it’s because he’s dead on the inside, and it’s finally starting to show.

 

whenever joshua smiles at _any_ of them for _no_ reason at all, it feels as if they’ve already earned a permanent spot in hell, and not for any of the reasons that _should_ earn them that exact spot.

 

_damn it, saint joshua._

 

wonwoo corrects him. " _best_ friends."

 

"exactly."

  
  
"you'll survive." wonwoo stretches his arms over his head. he's not going to let joshua's smile win this time. it’s been more a feeling of condemnation to him rather than a blessing. wonwoo doesn’t need a reminder. "'kay, mingyu, i'm all yours."

 

"me too," jun mutters, struggling to pry open a crab. seungkwan reaches out from across the table to help him.

 

joshua feigns nibbling on another piece of grilled squid to suppress a snicker. jeonghan throws his head back with a vehement groan. "what's so appealing about mr. infotech that you all wanna ride his dick so bad this weekend?"

 

wonwoo answers slowly, tone patronizing. "maybe because... he's _mr. infotech_?"

 

mingyu won a college pageant at the beginning of the school year. he was crowned mr. information technology. the fresh graduates were present, hollering with the rest of the audience every time their prized contestant so much as moved onstage. but mingyu walked out of that auditorium with five bouquets, a fucking crown, and a gaggle of girls who were desperate to get into his pants.

 

mingyu did his own hair. that’s _real_ talent.

 

seungcheol slams his hands against the table. "no dick-riding!" it's an order, but no one really listens to him anyway. "at least, not tonight. save it for when the rooms are empty."

 

jun stuffs his mouth with crab meat. "you're disgusting," he mumbles, mouth full. "you know that, right?"

 

"jihoon?" seungcheol asks instead, elects to ignore the _rhetorical_ question.

 

jihoon looks up from his plate, squid tentacles dangling from between his lips. " _hm?_ " he chews as he thinks before, finally, he swallows, reaching out for more food. "oh, i'll—" he waves his other hand dismissively. "i don't know. wherever jun is, i guess."

 

jun is always jihoon's safe option, right after jeonghan. he doesn't really mind. in fact, with the extent of jihoon's general hatred for humankind, jun’s actually flattered.

 

soonyoung lowers his gaze, fingers anxiously picking at the shell of the large crab on his plate.

 

"soonyoung?" seungcheol asks on instinct. he bites his lower lip almost immediately after the name slips from his own mouth. soonyoung raises his head, looking almost like a deer caught in headlights. seungcheol pretends to reach over for the bowl of rice even though there’s more than enough left on his own plate, in an attempt to hide his shaking pupils.

 

everyone has grown a habit of mentioning jihoon and soonyoung consecutively. jun doesn't comment, concentrates on his newly opened crab. mingyu bites his tongue and a ring of grilled squid.

 

seokmin looks at soonyoung, expectant. "you're not rooming with us?"

 

"of course i am!" soonyoung answers, a little too excited, a little too fast, a little too _forced_. "you're staying with us too, right, seungkwan?"

 

" _no_. you three are _not_ sharing a room," seungcheol says. "we're going to end up getting noise complaints, and i'm not down for that kind of responsibility.

 

seungkwan opens his mouth, only to start coughing when his answer gets stuck in his throat. he grabs his glass of water, chugging it down in one go as he looks at his two friends who are waiting for the _right_ answer, one that _should_ have come easy in the first place. he spares vernon a glance, stammers, "ah, y-yeah. sure—"

 

"that's a first," vernon interjects, bottom lip jutting out slightly as he chews. seungkwan didn’t exactly expect him to say anything. "we always room together."

 

"it's good to get a change of scenery." seokmin offers them his signature unfaltering grin. his enthusiasm is enough to send an all-too familiar pang of guilt straight to seungkwan's stomach. "before you get sick of each other,” he adds, teasing. a decade should be enough to determine that, seungkwan thinks, but he still nods.

 

in the end, they let all three share a room. what's the fucking point of trying to justify his logic anymore? seungcheol is tired.

 

minghao turns to vernon, and, with his thumb wipes crab meat away from the corner of vernon's mouth. "i'll room with you."

 

seungkwan feels the need to look away, smile wavering. he suddenly lost his appetite, and so he pushes his plate away.

 

vernon shrugs. "alright."

 

 _perfect_ , minghao thinks. vernon's passive reactions are absolutely perfect.

 

finally, they all turn to the farthest end of the table, where the youngest is quietly stuffing his face with rice. all the aimless chattering gradually dies down around their large table. two tables, actually. pushed together. it gets difficult to eat at restaurants as a complete group.

 

"chan?" seungcheol starts.

 

chan lifts his head up, cheeks swollen from the amount of food he's managed to save for the winter. he answers, muffled, "what?"

 

"you okay with minghao and vernon?"

 

"ah, yeah." he stuffs a calamari into his mouth. "or whoever. i don’t care.” chan waves a crab claw around in response, much too focused on finishing the food left on his plate.

 

minghao’s not one to ask unwarranted questions. so is vernon, but that’s mostly because he can’t be bothered to care half the time. perfect roommates, really, considering chan seems to not want to do anything but brood during the entirety of their stay.

 

“puberty, am i right?” seungkwan likes to say.

 

“you are literally a year older than i am.”

 

minghao turns to vernon for approval. the latter continues to _charmingly_ stuff his face with the variety of seafood he can grab at arm’s length. "fine by me."

 

after a firm, satisfied nod, chan downs his glass of water.

 

"okay.” seungcheol looks at each and every one of them. “that was easier than i expected.”

 

\---

**_A_** stands for **_a_** _mbien._

 

something jeonghan should have asked from wonwoo before they started heading to their respective room assignments.

 

according to seungcheol, however, **_A_** stands for **_A_** _good example_.

 

that's the motto seungcheol wants to live by for the rest of the weekend, even wants to have woodwork done to hang outside the door. just as a reminder. to _all_ of them.

 

"are you **_A_** _fucking idiot?_ " jeonghan comments as they walk up the steps and into their bungalow. “this is why you do the visuals, and i do the writing.”

 

seungcheol throws his bag onto one of the two beds, while jeonghan and joshua share the other. seungcheol tells himself to keep his sanity (and heart) intact by only looking at them if he has to. they are a trio. the eldest. the ones the kids look up to.

 

well, not so much jeonghan. although seungcheol probably doesn't know the extent of how much the kids respect their mother hen regardless of whether he's knocked out on depressants or high as a fucking kite because, all things considered, he still manages to take care of them, especially the ones who need it the most.

 

 _the lost boys_ , jeonghan calls them.

 

he attended mingyu's pageant night, seungkwan and seokmin's college musical, and one of soonyoung's soccer games when their college made it to the finals – all with a head-splitting hangover. he even went as far as arguing with chan’s contemporary literature professor for giving chan’s _to kill a mockingbird_ report for finals a subpar grade.

 

the perks of being a journalism major, with a penchant (and enough brain cells left) for literature.

 

on the other hand, while stricter in terms of trying to avoid any form of jail time, seungcheol turns soft for each and every one of them. he tells the kids to call him when they get home, and at one point received twenty-three missed calls when he stepped out of the shower.

 

vernon thinks seungcheol's hugs are the best, but his cool, angsty teenage ass won't let him say it out loud.

 

 

 

"i've got a reputation to uphold."

 

jihoon snorted. "sure."

 

minghao, in the middle of playing tetris, didn’t even bother looking up from his phone. "you literally don't."

 

 

 

seungcheol steps out of the bathroom  in a loose white shirt and boxers, fluffy towel draped over his head. jeonghan's already lying down beside joshua, mindlessly flipping through channels on the wide screen that hangs from the wall across their beds. joshua has already zoned out, leaning against the headboard as jeonghan repeatedly clicks on the remote.

 

they have the television on mute.

 

"hey, turn it back."

 

jeonghan does, and it lands on a channel that's playing _the notebook_ halfway through. "are you fucking kidding me?”

 

"you've been flipping through the same channels before i even went into the shower."

 

joshua zones back in, attention immediately to the television. "oh, hey. i love the notebook."

 

jeonghan repeats, "are you fucking kidding me?"

 

joshua shrugs. "the movie's actually better than the book." both his roommates stare at him in disbelief. joshua feels the need to quickly add, "... in my opinion, anyway."

 

" _jesus_ ," jeonghan mutters, turning and burying his face into the pillow. he leaves the remote on joshua's lap. "i feel like an old woman going to bed this early."

 

"jeonghan, it's two in the morning."

 

 ** _A_** stands for **_a_** _wake_.

 

something none of them should be at this hour.

 

\---

 

they don't (usually) hate each other.

 

they're all just tired, which should explain the varying levels of irritability.

 

 ** _B_** stands for **_b_** _itch, turn off the fucking lights._

 

"hang on, let me just—"

 

"wonwoo, it's two in the morning."

 

jihoon’s already buried himself under the thick comforters, vividly pink hair peeking out from under the layers. jun walks out of the bathroom and slips under the covers beside him.

 

wonwoo is finishing off the remaining chapters of his book, while mingyu leans against the wall beside the light switch. _waiting_. they all have been for the last half hour.

 

"yeah, just a sec—”

 

"wonwoo, we want to sleep."

 

jun quietly fluffs out his pillow. jihoon sighs in his sleep.

 

after midnight is always the best time to read. at least, in wonwoo's case. once, jeonghan had to pry the novel away from wonwoo's iron grip when he saw the other wide awake on the couch, adderall ready and waiting on the coffee table. (“are you trying to fucking die?”)

 

mingyu is close to throwing the paperback right across the room. the only thing that's stopping him is knowing that if he does exactly that, a brawl could break out in their peaceful bungalow. if wonwoo doesn't break his nose first, the worst case scenario would be jihoon waking up and dislocating his kneecaps, and jun telling seungcheol to rush over with an ambulance crew.

 

the only one who could possibly die is mingyu. he has already played out any and all potential scenarios in his head, and always arrives at the same conclusion: they will kill him. all of them.

 

maybe not jun, though. _maybe_.

 

“wonwoo, i will literally call jeonghan up to come over and knock you the fuck out.”

 

“suck my dick.”

 

“i’m sure you’d want that,” jun mutters from the other bed, an arm draped over his eyes.

 

jihoon stirs. “guys,” he mumbles against the pillow. “what the actual fuck—”

 

mingyu presses a hand against his chest, taunts, “you know what? i’d love to except i’m not jeonghan.”

 

“ _what?_ ”

 

the room’s temperature drops.

 

jihoon barely has time to sit up. jun holds his breath.

 

before mingyu can even open his mouth – think of a response, an apology – his back is already pressed against the wall, wonwoo’s fists curled into the collar of his shirt. the book lays forgotten on the floor beside the bed.

 

at the rate things are going, it seems like mingyu is dying, regardless.

 

jun scrambles off the bed, rushing over to pry them apart. “alright, alright! _stop!_ ”

 

jihoon lowers his gaze, pinches the bridge of his nose. “fucking christ.”

 

as always, mingyu is full of bright ideas – wanting to room with wonwoo _and_ being unable to bite his tongue is simply one of them. not knowing how to apologize is another.

 

_are we not done with this?_

“wonwoo.” jun’s voice is as hard as his grip on the other’s shoulder. mingyu and wonwoo don’t break eye contact, the latter only lifting his knuckles further up until they press against mingyu’s chin. jun forces himself between them. “ _wonwoo_ ,” jun presses. “look at me.” slowly, wonwoo’s gaze shifts to meet jun’s own. “stop.”

 

jihoon counts the passing seconds through his heartbeat.

 

finally, pushing mingyu hard against the wall one last time, wonwoo pulls away. he picks his book up from the floor, places it on the night stand, before slipping into the empty bed. jun turns to mingyu, nods toward the other bed. jaw clenched, mingyu begrudgingly drags himself to slip under the covers beside jihoon. the latter pulls the comforters over him once more, avoids eye contact with everyone else.

 

_try to have fun, seungcheol said. it’ll be great, he said._

jihoon can feel an oncoming migraine.

 

heaving a sigh, cheeks puffed out and hands on his hips, jun watches as the room finally settles. it seems like peace, despite the newfound silence, is definitely out of the question now. _goddamn it_.

looks like mingyu _does_ know a lot more than he lets on.

 

 ** _B_** also stands for **_b_** _ad beginnings make bad ends_.

 

\---

 

 ** _C_** stands for **_c_** _alm_.

 

 _seungcheol_ , seungkwan think as he sits with his legs up, cross-legged, on the wooden swing hanging in the front porch of their bungalow. _o ye of little faith._ someone could drop a nail across the resort, and the sound would bounce around the walls of their room.

 

knowing the trio’s room provides the unusual quiet everyone has been craving since their arrival would stun everyone to silence. there’s no tension in the air, but seokmin can tell by the amount of times soonyoung zoned out tonight and seungkwan’s inability to meet their gazes when talking, that something is definitely wrong.

 

seokmin sometimes wonders how no one else can tell.

 

maybe he just cares too much.

 

he won’t admit it, but that’s the reason he’s so adamant about having his two best friends (“best means one, seokmin.” - everyone, 20xx) as roommates. given, _vernon_ is seungkwan’s best friend; still, seokmin is more than happy to permanently occupy the position of second place.

 

(“best means one, seungkwan.”

 

“fuck you, hansol.”)

 

seokmin thinks - _knows_ \- they need time apart, even if it's only for a few hours. while initially reluctant, seungkwan inwardly thanks seokmin because, for once, his thoughts aren't totally eating him up.

 

“it’s pretty cold out here.”

 

seungkwan diverts his attention from the dark pathway to his friend that's leaning against the open doorway. seokmin seems to carry an innate brightness considering the lights inside their room are turned off, yet seungkwan could swear there’s a flicker of fluorescence just now. he figures it’s probably just seokmin’s smile – _as always_. seungkwan shifts aside, offers his friend a space on the swing.

 

“soonyoung?”

 

“passed out.”

 

“huh.”

 

heartache must be exhausting.

 

seokmin kicks the air slightly so the swing is in gentle motion. “you know you can talk to me, right?”

 

“about what?” seungkwan feigns nonchalance, even forces out a laugh that only sends sharp pangs right through his chest. he blames it on the chill night air, how his lungs seem to painfully constrict at the idea of pouring his heart out to someone else. he’s not that type of person.

 

seokmin doesn’t push further, doesn’t comment on the way seungkwan stops mid-laugh when he catches a glimpse of vernon with minghao. the two – suddenly inseparable. seokmin would have stopped, too, if only from surprise.

 

after a minute, he asks, “what’s it like?” there’s still something melodious about the way he talks. seokmin asks these types of questions in awestruck wonder. less childish, and more childlike. it’s more than what seungkwan can say about him and soonyoung at this point. “to be in love?”

 

everyone knows, save for the person who _has_ to. seungkwan has no reason to deny it, but vernon’s never asked, which means he has no reason to admit it, either.

 

“it hurts.”

 

“how much?”

 

“too much.”

 

for awhile, they listen to the nearby echo of the waves crashing onto the shore. they head inside a little before sunrise, figure they’d at least get a few hours of sleep before jeonghan is sent (see: ordered) by seungcheol to wake them up.

 

_we'll be fine._

 

 ** _C_** stands for **_c_** _arpe diem_.

 

 _seize the day_ – something none of them can seem to do.

 

_yet._

 

\---

 

 ** _D_** stands for **_d_** _ancing with **d** anger_.

 

chan has already taken over one of the beds, spread-eagle on his stomach, by the time the older two enter the room, leaving them no choice but to share the other bed. they’ve already figured as much, and, really, neither of them mind at all.

 

vernon sleeps without a shirt on, a known fact rather than an issue, leaving him in only sweatpants when he slips under the covers beside minghao. they’re lying own with their backs to each other, yet minghao revels at how the natural warmth of the other’s skin still manages to seep into the thin material of his shirt.

 

when minghao repositions himself to lie on his other side, he’s taken aback, in a literal sense, when he find vernon’s face mere inches from his. he listens to other’s even breathing, watches the rise and fall of vernon’s shoulders before vernon’s eyes flutter open.

 

in an instant, dark brown meets bright hazel –  naturally spellbinding, and even more so illuminated by the light that permeates through the cracks of the bungalow window.

 

minghao has always loved vernon’s eyes, from the moment they happened upon his own one rainy day, during freshman year of high school. it would be a lie to say that minghao did not, at least once (or ten times), think about kissing vernon.

 

chan’s light snores can’t compete with the sound of minghao’s erratic heartbeat.

 

“you okay?”

 

there’s a pause, their noses barely grazing when vernon leans in. minghao tries not to be too obvious about his breath hitching at the brief, but sudden, contact. the thumping in his chest rises to his throat, settling in his ears. it’s deafening, combined with the buzzing at the back of his head that he can’t quite shake off. an endless stream of heartbeats pass before vernon’s lips quirk up into his usual crooked smile.

 

“yeah,” he finally answers, almost inaudibly. the other watches vernon’s fingers tentatively curl into a fist just beside his face, as if wanting to reach out. minghao isn’t sure if he wants him to. “good night.”

 

( he wants him to. minghao realizes this a second too late. )

 

“good night.”

 

when vernon turns his back to minghao once more, pulling the covers up over his neck, the other is left wide-eyed in astonishment. minghao feels his blood turn to ice, when previously unrelated ideas start connecting to form constellations in his head.

 

minghao hopes he’s wrong because **_shit_**.

 

he fucked up.

 

 ** _D_** stands for **_d_** _on’t_.

 

\---

 

the weekend is about to feel a lot longer than it has to.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i don't like this chapter. i pretty much gave up on it, but this was sitting in my drafts for two months, and i felt guilty about lying to myself. damn. this got pretty long, but hey, at least they're more conversations now. i think. also, i let my best friend beta this chapter for me, and she deadass told me i should just "go with the flow" as if that will solve anything because i worship chaos.


	5. where my heart beats faster now (faster now)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> optimism: things (or people) arrive unexpectedly to change your life.  
> pessimism: things (or people) arrive unexpectedly to disrupt order.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the verkwan / verhao arc ( feat. booseok )
> 
> half of this chapter follows nonlinear / disruptive narrative.

it was tough being the new kid.

 

minghao arrived unexpectedly halfway through their second year, when classes resumed after spring break. everyone already had a set group of friends from the year and semester prior.

  
  
seungkwan could relate, if only he knew. they only had one class together - algebra, which seungkwan spent more than half the time spacing out.

 

no one tried to make room for him. minghao had no intention to befriend anyone either.

 

minghao was quiet, one might add _too_.

 

he sat at the back corner of the class looking out the window if he wasn't typing away at the tablet he hid behind a thick biology textbook. teachers constantly called for him, assumed he wasn’t listening, except minghao correctly answered any and all of the questions thrown his way, _elaborately_. every. single. one. teachers learned to him alone.

 

he never raised his hand.

 

as high school drama would, however, rumors started circulating about minghao's familial background just a few days after his arrival - why he transferred so late, why he never spoke unless spoken to. not that anyone had the decency - or courage - to speak to him to begin with, if only to clear up any of the bullshittery thrown his way.

  
  
simple - yet _highly_ unlikely - stories.

 

they were the kinds punctuated by multiple question marks. no one could trace its original source no matter how hard anyone looked into it. they sounded so far-fetched it was astounding how stupid half the student population was for ever believing any of it. (boo seungkwan, 2017, upon further recollection of his high school experience.)

 

the recurring theme was their affiliation with multiple chinese triads, specifically leading syndicates such as _sun yee on_ and _14k_. thus, being involved in transnational organized crime ( _like extortion and shit_ , vernon explained impeccably upon relaying the story a few years later).

 

they were opposing guilds.

 

apparently, his family also killed the emperor.

 

or minghao did.

 

  
  
( "the head of state, you mean?"

  
  
"no, dude. the emperor."

  
  
"right." )

 

  
  
the gossipmongers, evident history class failures, neglected to learn that puyi, the last emperor of china, had died in 1967, and that they were a republic now.

  
  
regardless, any and all surfacing material concluded with the xu family fleeing from beijing to desperately hide among civilians. as such, useless members of the student body decided to play sherlock holmes and found - surprise - _absolutely nothing_.

 

( _shocker_. )

  
  
the only reason minghao hadn't yet been cornered, threatened, or shoved against and into lockers was because the idea of being shot terrified everyone - as it should.

  
  
as if any of them were important enough to be assassinated.

 

simply ignoring him seemed like the best option.

  
  
people also, for some reason, thought it was possible that minghao was bait sent by a private organization to infiltrate the system.

 

 

  
  
"what system?" a paintbrush halted mid-stroke so seungkwan could looked at seokmin with furrowed brows. something to match his look of utter disbelief. "the educational system?"

  
  
his fingertips were stained green. really, he’d had enough with the green thumb jokes. they had two weeks left before opening night, and these cardboard bushes were not going to paint themselves.

 

"beats me," seokmin shrugged, delicately painting on dots that should account for purple berries. "it doesn’t even matter now since it’s gonna change next week,” he added with a toothy grin. “kinda exciting, though. it’s like a tv series.”

 

_tune in next week on: how high school can scar you for life._

  
  
seungkwan scoffed, dipped his brush back into one of the metal paint cans that vernon helped carry to the auditorium. "who actually believes this crap?”

  
  
" _yeah..._ "

  
  
seokmin's pupils shook. he pretended to focus on another fake plant. _to be fair, it was one time_ , he wanted to say. _i mean, a chinese triad? what are the odds?_

  
  
seokmin realized he might be spending too many friday nights watching mafia movies and criminal minds with his mom.

 

\--

 

vernon was fairly popular.

  
  
_fairly_ was an understatement.

 

eyes were on him whenever he passed by the hallways, and girls swooned when he so much as waved at them. he had absolutely no clue as to why people were so adamant about kissing his ass; granted, he had no fucking clue _in general_.

 

vernon knew five people by name: seungkwan, seokmin, that dude in literature (so close), that chick in biology (yet so far), and, finally, minghao.

  
  
while oblivious, vernon had minghao in most of his classes, so (false) information reached him faster than (real) information ever did. there were either hushed whispers or dead silence every time minghao entered the classroom.

 

there was no in-between.

  
  
it’s been a week.

  
  
the lack of proof gradually caused the rumors to die down, but in a desperate attempt to keep the student body talking, baseless new ones began surfacing.

  
  
as vernon would, he decided to completely block out the tall tales by putting on obnoxious _beats by dr. dre_ headphones and having tupac on blast.

  
  
he sat two chairs away from the transferee, yet found himself constantly glancing in his direction. minghao's gaze always seemed so far away.

  
  
for some reason, he didn't look lonely or left out.

  
  
he just looked sad.

  
  
it shouldn't, but it did, come as a shock to the rest of their batch when vernon cornered minghao by the exit door just as the latter was about to step out of the classroom. vernon leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. a backpack was slung over one shoulder while headphones settled around his neck - both of which were just as obnoxiously red as the other.

  
  
"yo,” he greeted, all bright honey brown eyes to match his lopsided grin. “wanna have lunch with me?"

 

 

  
  
seungkwan and seokmin arrived at their usual table, trays in hand, while vernon was in the middle of one of his stories.

 

"you're just in time. i was just getting to the good part."

 

seungkwan and seokmin sat across from them, merely sparing a glance at the newest addition. they saved the questions for after vernon was done with his tales of virtual woes. they listened in, and, really, that was all they ever did. everything that came out of vernon’s mouth half the time sounded like gibberish, but they nodded and hummed when it felt appropriate.

 

neither of them played call of duty.

 

as it seemed, seungkwan noticed, the new student felt the same, offering a tiny smile of acknowledgment whenever vernon turned to him, if only to signify that he was still listening. he instinctively shifted away when excessive hand gestures were close to smacking him in the face.

 

vernon never caught on.

  
  
" _anyway_ ," vernon concluded with a heavy sigh. "we lost big time, but that's because some asshole couldn’t work his aim. new light mouse and all that - sensitive shit. definitely not good for first-person shooters." he shook his head and clicked his tongue. by this point, seungkwan and seokmin were beyond even pretending to listen. seungkwan examined a soggy french fry, while seokmin eyed the dessert line.

  
  
eventually, a grin replaced the disappointed scowl on vernon's face, and the sudden quiet had the other two zoning back in. "alright, guys." _fucking finally_. vernon extended an arm to his side, palm up in presentation. "this is minghao."

  
  
"hey, man," seokmin started, greeting muffled by a mouth full of pizza. "so, okay, serious question. did you really kill the emp--"

  
  
seungkwan elbowed him in the rib so hard, he choked on the pizza crust mid-swallow. "how's this school treating you?"

  
  
the answer should be fairly obvious.

  
  
minghao picked at his food, peeling off the pepperoni pieces from his own slice of pizza. he replied, voice soft, eyes on his tray. "fine."

  
  
"fine," seungkwan echoed, eyebrows rising. "just fine?"

  
  
minghao offered them a crack of a smile, mostly to be polite. "just fine."

  
  
seokmin repeatedly hit his chest with a fist in an attempt to unclog his airways.

 

( self-reflection: he wasn’t sure which was more terrifying - dying on the spot or not seeing much when his life flashed before his eyes. at least the entire thing was in high-definition. )

  
  
seungkwan tried to catch vernon’s eye, his  own gaze quickly shifting toward the odd transferee. _what the heck?_

  
  
vernon simply shrugged before picking up minghao's neglected pepperoni slices, raising it over his head, and dropping it in his mouth.

 

\-- 

 

people were over it.

 

classmates began offering minghao friendly waves to match their apologetic smiles, both of which minghao quietly, and oh so kindly, returned.

 

such was high school.

 

a month passed, give or take, before any of them could elicit anything more than a nod or monosyllabic response from minghao. by that time, other students dropped any impractical topic related to the chinese transferee, seeing as vernon found him harmless enough to hang out with. their dynamic was simple: vernon did most of the talking and minghao nodded along.

 

 

  
the welcoming committee, as seokmin liked to call them, learned that minghao was fluent in four different languages: mandarin, korean, english, and russian; and in the process of learning three more: japanese, french, and portuguese.

  
  
" _russian_."

 

it was not a question. seungkwan stared at him, unbelieving. "which astral plane do you have to live in to ever need to learn russian?"

  
  
there's a wide grin that gradually formed on minghao's lips, eyes tinged with amusement. it suited him - _smiling_ . it wasn't the first time anyone's questioned _that_ one specifically. then again, it had been awhile since anyone asked at all. he paused from poking at his fruit salad to answer the question.

 

“business connections are made with russia a lot more often than you think."

  
  
seokmin popped a piece of pineapple in his mouth. vernon visibly cringed; artificial sweeteners were disgusting. "isn't your brain fried?"

  
  
"well, no." _not yet_ . minghao stuck his plastic fork into a tiny piece of lychee. another pause, just as it touched his lips. "actually, yes. _sometimes_. i actually wanted to learn german, but i guess that could wait."

  
  
seungkwan scoffed, incredulous. " _unbelievable_."

 

that was the first time they ever heard minghao laugh.

 

\--

 

“so, you’re rich?”

 

“my dad is. kind of.”

 

“technicalities.”

 

the truth of the matter.

 

"we moved a lot," minghao explained, cheek cupped in his palm, elbow resting on his knee. they gathered in a small circle by the field. the track team just started their daily after-school training session. "it's hard getting attached, you know? i mean, i'm just gonna leave in a few months. what's the point?"

 

“people need friends, though.” vernon leaned against his arms, legs extended in front of him. he paused, looking at the other two for reassurance. “...i mean, don’t they?”

 

“i have friends.” seungkwan and seokmin shared a look, to which minghao added defensively, “i do! a lot, actually. but most of them are in beijing and new york.” when the other three merely stared at him, minghao sighed, added, “i rest my case. this is why i try not to make any more. it’s gonna be hard leaving you, guys, behind.”

 

seokmin grinned wide enough for his eyes to disappear. his entire being could compete with the sun’s existence. “well, until you go, we’re your friends.”

 

seungkwan snorted, smacking seokmin’s shoulder with the back of his hand. “even after that, idiot.”

 

vernon shifted toward minghao, didn’t care if his cargo shorts get stained with dirt and grass. vernon grew the habit of zoning out into a virtual world whenever his mom reprimanded him. there, he wielded a keyblade, and fought alongside donald and goofy - like kingdom hearts except better. (“how is it any better?” “because i’m in it, obviously.”) he slung an arm around minghao’s shoulder, pulled the lanky boy closer.

 

“dude, listen. we’ll send care packages to russia if we have to.”

 

 

 

they had the opportunity to hang out at minghao’s place one weekend - an expensive unit in a high-rise, located at the upper-middle (he was simply being humble) class part of the city.

 

 _the main headquarters_ , as minghao put it.

 

his dad’s business trips were usually located around this particular city, whether he dragged minghao’s ass from china with him or not. the first thing they noticed were the multiple medals, plus some blue and red ribbons, displayed in the living area.

 

“damn,” vernon muttered, hands on his hips as he eyed the trophy cabinet. “they didn’t say smack about the girl who believes she’s half-shark, and yet here they are making shit up about a black-belter.”

 

seungkwan, who was lounging on the couch, looked up from the photo album on his lap. the thing was filled back-to-back with photos of minghao through the years, winning all sorts of international competitions. something minghao didn’t exactly want - or _expect_ \- them to see. “wait - the same girl who said she swam among dolphins all the way to japan?”

 

seokmin called out from the pantry. “thailand, according to other variations.”

 

minghao sat beside seungkwan, confusion evident on his face. seungkwan reached out to give him a reassuring pat on the knee, as if to say _i shit you not_.

 

“oh, man.” vernon plopped down on the couch beside minghao, arms draped along the backrest. “i liked her. what happened to her?”

 

seokmin walked back out into the living room with a large bag of chips in hand. “as salt water animals should be, she was released into the pacific.”

 

“idiot. her family moved to canada last year.”

 

“how do you keep believing this stuff?”

 

\--

 

freshmen - so full of hope and life.

 

the best example, according to vernon, was the time seungkwan practically flung himself into the auditorium the day of auditions. once sign-up sheets were up and ready on the bulletin boards, seungkwan wrote his name in capital letters with bright red ink.

 

“don’t miss me too much,” he told vernon one sunset on the rooftop.

 

“i won’t.” when vernon turned to look at his best friend, he was met with a grimace that quickly transformed into an excessive pout. vernon burst into laughter at the sight. “you definitely belong in theater, dude”

 

( _cue the dramatics._ )

 

seungkwan snickered in return, pulled his knees close to his chest, loafers scuffing the concrete. “you really won’t miss me?”

 

vernon responded with a scoff, turned his attention toward the setting pink and periwinkle ahead. a glint of amusement reflected in hazel hues. (vernon told seungkwan that he looked in the mirror once, and noticed that they looked cerulean when he was tired.) he stretched his legs in front of him, arms over his head. the corner of his lips tug upward into a subtle smile - which seungkwan noticed.

 

vernon didn’t need to say anything.

 

_of course i will._

 

\--

 

“art class? in your last year?”

 

vernon shrugged, taking a big bite off his burger. it was the weekend. he didn’t need to have this kind of conversation right now.

 

seungkwan’s food was left forgotten on the table between them. vernon reached across for a french fry. “why all of a sudden?”

 

“i don’t know, man. it just came to me.” he mumbled against the side of the burger bun, shoving the fry into whatever space was left in his mouth. seungkwan scrunched his nose up in distaste. “‘sides, i need something to put on my resume.”

 

seungkwan scoffed, pushed his tray toward vernon who happily engulfed the remaining fries in the box. “and you think art class is gonna help you get into college?”

 

“ _no..._ ” vernon dragged out. he swallowed his food, grabbed his extra large soda, and took a few large sips. he smacked his lips afterward before looking at his friend seriously. “my obviously superior intellect will.”

 

\--

 

as it seemed, plans changed.

 

instead of leaving after the promised few months, minghao’s flight to los angeles was scheduled after graduation. this came as a relief to them until minghao revealed even more surprising news during the latter half of their final year.

 

“i’m going to college.”

 

“dude, we’re _all_ going to college.”

 

“no, no.” he heaved out a sigh, index finger tapping against the surface of the table twice. “i’m going to college _here_.”

 

seokmin spat out his soda; seungkwan, who sat across from him quickly evaded, reached across the table to punch him on the shoulder. vernon’s eyes widened, mouth agape - from both genuine shock and being a second away from shoving half his burrito into his mouth.

 

“that’s great, man! how’d you talk your dad out of it?”

 

 

 

“dad, i want to stay here.”

 

“good. because you will.”

 

“wait, what?”

 

“i’m leaving you with your aunt.”

 

“wait, _dad_ \--”

 

 

 

 _you better not fail anything_ , was his sweet parting words before boarding the plane. _or i’m shipping your ass back to beijing to live with your mother._

 

_thanks, dad. love you, too._

 

minghao narrowed his eyes at the memory from only a week ago. he reached out for a quesadilla, avoided the rest of the table’s expectant gazes. “i mean, does it _really_ matter?”

 

\---

 

_choose a job you love, and you will never work a day in your life._

 

to this day, the income tax team all beg to disagree.

 

jeonghan, on the other hand, takes every similar opportunity to make obscene jokes about how the words _blow_ and _hand_ should always precede the word _job_. this is almost always met with a collective eyeroll, save for when wonwoo has the energy to humor his best friend.

 

“you should get paid for it, really.”

 

“i _know_. thank you.”

 

 

 

at breakfast, seungcheol, like the indisputable dad he is, asks a yawning mingyu about graduation preparations, which then brings them to the topic of: _when exactly is graduation again?_

 

jeonghan turns to him, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. “you’re fucking kidding, right?”

 

seungcheol raises his hands in surrender, buttered toast hanging from between his teeth.

 

the new arrival, vernon, answers, “graduation’s on monday.” he walks up the steps to the eldest group’s bungalow, minghao at his side, and chan following closely behind them. vernon shamelessly reaches over seungkwan’s shoulder, picking up the latter’s half-eaten hash brown. “so we really gotta get a move on tomorrow night.” he manages to avoid seungkwan’s violent elbow by a mere inch.

 

seungcheol plucks the toast out of his mouth, chews as he incredulously eyes everyone present so far. “you tell me this _now?”_

jeonghan closes his eyes, pinches the bridge of his nose. “the invitation is stuck to the fucking fridge.” once open, he leans forward, offers seungcheol a patronizing smile. “maybe if someone learned to restock the fridge, they would fucking know.”

 

before seungcheol could retaliate, mingyu harshly spits out coffee, pushing the porcelain cup back toward jihoon in disgust. “ _god_. your coffee is as bitter as you are.”

 

jihoon snorts, pours cream into his cup. “you should taste jeonghan’s.”

 

“fuck you.”

 

 

 

the graduating batch are left to face mom and dad.

 

wonwoo and jun dragged chan off to the beach to make sure the misguided child doesn’t spend the entire day cooped up in their room watching cable television he can otherwise watch at home.

 

 

 

“ _sunblock!_ ” jeonghan called out before the trio left.

 

“sunblock is for losers.”

 

jun settled a hand on chan’s head, guiding him to the direction of their bungalows to prepare. “you’re going to end up shedding like a snake.”

 

wonwoo nodded toward jeonghan. “we really don’t need another one.”

 

jeonghan raised a hand to give wonwoo the finger.

 

 

 

jihoon wordlessly left the table after he finished his food, and they knew enough not to ask any questions, especially after they saw soonyoung rush in the same direction a little after. joshua gave jeonghan a quick kiss on the cheek, told him he was going to wait for him and seungcheol in their room. no one but seokmin noticed the way seungcheol subtly lowered his gaze, pretended to add more sugar into his already unbearably sweet coffee.

 

this time, the conversation starts with: _what do you want to do after college?_

 

not only is seungcheol a dad now, he also imposes the role of career counselor upon himself. jeonghan rolls his eyes so far back into his head he can almost feel his eyeballs falling out of his ass.

 

silence surrounds the entire table.

 

there’s only the crashing of waves against the shore, and chirping of birds overhead. seokmin, mingyu, minghao, vernon, and seungkwan slowly peer at each other, hoping someone - _anyone_ \- of them can answer, if only to get things over with.

 

jeonghan immediately recognizes that look. he’s seen it before. in fact, too many times - the collection of knitted brows and reluctant mouths, opening as if to say something only to have them close when a nervous breath is all that manages to come out; the anxious shaking of pupils, eye contact made to helplessly pass around the metaphorical torch.

 

_i don’t know._

 

\--

 

_the sky was a seafoam green._

 

[ **sns:** my boo ] late practice

[ **sns:** my boo ] don’t wait up

 

" _my boo?_ ” minghao asked, catching a glimpse of the phone screen when vernon opened the text.

 

vernon could only chuckle. “yeah, he changed his name on my phone.” he shook his phone lightly, for emphasis. “i didn’t bother changing it back.”

 

minghao noticed the way vernon’s brows furrowed as he scanned the text again, watched as the latter dropped his phone onto his lap after. vernon rested his head against the concrete wall. “what’s wrong?”.

 

“i was hoping i’d go home with him today.”

 

“is everything okay?”

 

“yeah. just.” vernon offered the other a tight-lipped smile. “theater’s taking a lot of his time lately.” he craned his head, peered at minghao who sat cross-legged beside him.

 

minghao chewed on the inside of his cheek, contemplative. “i’ll go home with you.” he turned to vernon, almost got distracted with the way the sunset made vernon’s eyes look like molten gold. “i mean, if you want.”

 

“yeah?”

 

“yeah.”

 

a wide grin replaced vernon’s previously dejected expression. “looks like we have some time to ourselves then.”

 

seungkwan stood with his back against the metal door that lead to the rooftop. fingers clutched his phone so tightly, his knuckles began turning white. his jaw was clenched, eyes closing as he inhaled deeply. finally, after releasing shaky breath, he forced himself to retrace his steps, and walk back to the auditorium.

 

_the sunset was a minty lilac._

 

( _they were a burning white_. )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> guess fucking what: this isn’t even done.
> 
> tbh i only (( thought )) about elaborating arcs, but i guess it would make sense to. so this fic might as well never end. anyway, verkwan and verhao are one of the messiest ships here bc i fucking LOVE chaos. but theirs is one of my faves, so here it is. this got really long so i guess a part 2 is in order. who knows. i have so many things to say about them. fuck me. i was running out of words, so i hope this mediocrity works for you. ps: you’d be surprised how true the sharkgirl part is.
> 
> linkin park voice i tried so hard and got so far but in the end it doesn’t even matter
> 
> finally, (belated) happy birthday ao3 user ulgo. i know i said a week, but that’s not how things work. anyway. it’s here. it’s done. sorry for the lateness, but all of verkwan and verhao are dedicated to you.


	6. bouncing off of the satellites

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> jihoon is sick of hearing his name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the soonhoon arc
> 
> follows nonlinear / disruptive narrative
> 
> trigger warning: needles, but only for the first part.

_don’t fuck up._

 

it was a mantra - one that sooynoung, as much as possible, tried to follow from the day he was unwillingly brought into this miserable world, yet never really had much luck pushing through. still, he’d have those three words tattooed in the palm of his hand as a permanent reminder if it meant jihoon would stop screaming in his ear.

 

“if that needle breaks inside me, soonyoung, i swear to all the gods in heaven and hell--”

 

“please, calm the _fuck_ down.”

 

soonyoung was never one to intentionally raise his voice, especially not to jihoon, but he needed to concentrate extra fucking hard because _fuck up_ could just as well be written on his goddamn forehead as a trademark. “i got this.”

 

his hands said otherwise.

 

fingers shook tremendously as they gripped the syringe. jihoon’s perpetual state of anger caused him to slip into a panic attack. soonyoung realized too late that maybe he should have gotten a subject that was more distracted like vernon. or aloof like wonwoo. or constantly sedated like jeonghan.

 

“can we get this fucking over with? i can’t feel my fingers.” jihoon had his head thrown back against the seat, neck settled against the backrest. his free hand gestured toward the tourniquet wrapped tightly around his upper left arm. “if i end up with a missing limb, i’m gonna smack your face so hard with my decaying, amputated arm.”

 

after another minute of violently hyperventilating in a corner, soonyoung gathered whatever he could of his composure, and approached jihoon once more. the vein wasn’t hard to find, and he owed this one to the fact that jihoon was so pale, it almost seemed like he never went outside. which, really, wasn’t far from the truth. with a deep breath, the needle hovered just above jihoon’s arm.

 

“do you trust me?”

 

“do you want an honest answer?”

 

“fair enough.”

 

since soonyoung, once again, hesitated long enough for jihoon’s fingertips to turn blue, he cheered soonyoung on by sending a stream of curses his way until soonyoung finally, and carefully, stuck the needle in to draw blood. the only reaction jihoon elicited was a small grimace.

 

it was a much quicker process than soonyoung had initially thought.

 

in the end, it looked like the blood was drained from his face instead.

 

“the answer is _yes_ , by the way,” jihoon started. soonyoung had his back turned by the sink, ready to dispose of the used materials. jihoon pressed the gauze against the inside of his elbow. “i _do_ trust you.”

 

soonyoung almost dropped the vial.

 

\--

 

"what are your options?"

 

"probably the same as yours."

 

on the table was a huge pile of flyers and pamphlets. top universities distributed them in full-colored glossy paper, amenities listed alongside popular courses - _show-offs._ specialty and smaller schools could care less, handed them out in black and white flyers, a complete list of courses easily relayed across - _necessary details_.

 

( _it’s a culinary school. what else do you need to know? anyway, for further inquiries, you may contact us through this number or that e-mail._ )

 

jihoon took one from every booth they saw at the college fair, including ones he had no plans on applying for. _just in case_. ( _backup_ , he explained, walking beside soonyoung. _for when i completely fuck myself over_. ) there were universities from the same city, far into the province, and even further out of the country. soonyoung couldn't even begin to think about touching any from the last category, but he was set on following jihoon around like a confused stray dog.

 

" _this_ ," jihoon began, picking one of the thicker pamphlets from the messy pile. "it's my first choice, but." tentative fingers flipped through the pages for what seemed to be the hundredth time that day alone. "the course i want has a pretty high cut-off score. so, i'm not sure if..." 

 

"are you seriously doubting yourself right now?"

 

"no, i'm doubting if _you_ can get in."

 

soonyoung wasn’t the least bit offended.

 

" _jihoon_."

 

“can we do this tomorrow? we have homework.”

 

soonyoung reached out, plucked the pamphlet from between the other's grasp. he browsed through the pages himself, eyed the sleek buildings and fancy walls of text. one of the top three universities -- soonyoung tried not let that ~~tiny~~ fact hinder him from at least trying. "you didn't work your ass off to settle for less."

 

 

unlike jihoon, soonyoung was easily distracted--

 

(“our test is in biology.”

 

“oh, shit. i studied for english.”

 

“what the fuck did you study? there is literally _nothing_ to study for in english.”)

 

\--and had the tendency to cram everything at the last minute.

 

(“okay, class starts in twenty minutes. i can get my essay printed, and still have time to buy an extra large slurpee from 7-11.”

 

“soonyoung, _focus_.”)

 

 

soonyoung had every reason to question his qualifications. there was almost no way he stood a chance among the lineup of geniuses who competed annually for a slot. top students would give up half a working lung to simply be added on the waiting list.

 

with a heavy sigh, jihoon grabbed the pamphlet back from soonyoung, and tossed it back on the table. “i’m settling for _you_.”

 

"why do you think i'm working harder?"

 

deadlines for applications were fast approaching, and jihoon wasn’t sure if it was his nervous heartbeat or the ticking of the kitchen clock that resonated in his ears. soonyoung could tell jihoon was getting antsy just by the latter's habit of repeatedly curling his hands into fists.

 

if jihoon was anxious, soonyoung might as well just give up his chances.

 

but he wasn’t going to.

 

( _at least, not for_ **_this_ ** _one._ )

 

soonyoung leaned in until his face was a mere inch away from jihoon’s cheek. indignant about physical contact, jihoon automatically raised his head at the sudden lack of distance between them.

 

"soonyoung, what the fuck?”

 

before jihoon could physically retaliate - lean back or smack soonyoung’s face away; unpredictability was strong - soonyoung planted a quick kiss on the corner of jihoon’s mouth. the other tensed up, and soonyoung watched jihoon’s pale cheeks gradually turn an astonishing shade of pink. 

 

jihoon quietly stared at him, slack-jawed, expression otherwise unreadable. soonyoung thought about making a run for it, had the advantage of soccer at his side, but jihoon fueled by rage was faster than any known land animal. a cheetah would either bow down or cower in his presence.

 

hesitantly, he started, “jihoon--” 

 

"motherfucker."

 

“jihoon, i’m--”

 

“i’ll kill you.”

 

“i’m sorry--”

 

jihoon's fingers grabbed onto the collar of soonyoung’s shirt, pulled him harshly to press their lips together.

 

 _properly_ , this time.

 

( _because_ **_fuck you_** _, that’s why._ )

 

soonyoung could only blink when jihoon pushed him away, shoulders hitting the backrest of the chair.

 

_once. twice. thrice. four times--_

 

“does that mean you like me, too?” 

 

"you're a fucking moron."

 

"but i'm your--"

 

"don't even fucking talk right now."

 

soonyoung couldn’t help the grin that made its way to his face when he noticed the corner of jihoon’s lips twitch, obviously trying to suppress a smile.

 

this was, by far, the best day of his life.

 

_he wasn’t going to fuck up._

 

\--

 

_he fucked up._

 

"jihoon, _please_."

 

jihoon reflexively swats soonyoung's hand away as he speeds up his steps.

 

" _jihoon_." soonyoung's tone is desperate, pleading, ready to kneel right then and there, in front of jihoon, if the latter continues to storm off. "jihoon, can we just talk about--"

 

"i don’t want to talk.”

 

"then, at least, listen to me."

 

he doesn't.

 

so, soonyoung grabs jihoon's wrist with the risk of getting stabbed in the face with whatever item - sharp or not, the other is capable of that -  jihoon can grab at arm’s length. soonyoung’s grip forces jihoon to stop just before he can step foot into the room and slam the door in soonyoung's face.

 

" _jihoon--_ "

 

"stop saying my fucking name."

 

\--

 

"i like it when you say my name."

 

"you mean..."

 

"in _general_ , dumbass."

 

it was a random thought, but odd enough for soonyoung to stop himself from shoving a forkful of cake in his mouth. jihoon couldn’t say this was the worst dinner he had considering the cheap burgers and fries they ate left a better aftertaste on his tongue than the current state of his familial affairs. it was the way soonyoung stared at him, ready to make use of his sugar-induced high, that made him want to flee. he knew _that_ look - lips curled at the corners like a cat, narrow eyes even narrower as if ready to pounce.

 

jihoon should have kept his mouth shut.

 

what soonyoung considered dessert, jihoon thought to be another full-course meal. even if it involved a two-layered spongecake made out of 87% marshmallow icing. jihoon only had a small slice while soonyoung managed to consume half.

 

glucose constantly ran through the boy's blood stream.

 

it was one of mingyu's previous experiments gone wrong, except soonyoung, when he had been a guinea pig, loved it so much he asked mingyu to recreate it. just in case jihoon wanted to try it. upon seeing the -- as soonyoung stated -- fluffy _masterpiece_ , jihoon really didn't want to, could already feel the rush before any part of it landed on his tongue.

 

 

( "it's all sugar. are you sure you want--"

 

"yes." )

 

 

jihoon wasn’t fond of sweets.

 

( _thought appreciated, nonetheless._ )

 

soonyoung grinned. “where did that come from?”

 

( _this one, not so much._ )

 

with a heavy sigh, jihoon pushed himself off his seat. “it just slipped.” he began to pile the dirty plates on the table, ready to wash them. “drop it.” he paused, spared soonyoung a glance. "the topic, not the plates."

 

just as he placed the dishes in the sink, he felt arms wrap around his waist from behind him. jihoon barely flinched, reluctantly getting used to the other's affectionate gestures. his cheeks, however, couldn’t help but heat up when he felt soonyoung’s breath against his ear. “i like it when you say my name, too.”

 

jihoon scoffed, simply to hide his shaking voice. “which is why i don’t.”

 

soonyoung turned him around, pressed jihoon’s back against the cold surface of the kitchen tiles. “well, i’m gonna make you say it--”

 

jihoon pressed a palm against soonyoung’s face before the latter could even finish his statement.

 

( _the art of seduction by kwon soonyoung_ _\- not exactly a bestseller._ )

 

“ _stop_.”

 

\--

 

“soonyoung, _stop_.”

 

 

 

jun easily hears the commotion happening behind the door, attention taken away from a struggling chan whose skin is thickly lathered in sunscreen. wonwoo slowly pushes himself off the bed, peers through the curtains to see soonyoung tugging jihoon’s arm. the latter refuses to budge. wonwoo starts reaching for the doorknob.

 

jun calls out, “no, don’t.” 

 

wonwoo turns, eyebrows raised in question.

 

“let them fix it.”

 

“but jihoon--”

 

“like you, jihoon can fight his own battles.”

 

 

 

“give me five minutes, jihoon.”

 

“i don’t have time for this.”

 

“three?”

 

jihoon pulls his arm back harshly, crosses both against this chest. “two.”

 

soonyoung raises both hands, palm up in surrender. “alright, i’m--” _fuck_. “i’m so fucking sorry. can we fix this?”

 

“that’s the whole point, you idiot. there’s nothing _to_ fix.” jihoon heaves a sigh, leans against the door he badly just wants to slam soonyoung’s face against. “can you use your brain for once? you’re smart.”

 

“you know i’m not.”

 

“ _you are_ ,” jihoon lowers his gaze onto the floor, presses the soles of his shoes against the accumulated sand. “you just shut off whenever you want to.”

 

 _you’re right._ “i don’t.” 

 

"then, tell me,” jihoon starts, catching the other's eye. it’s soonyoung’s turn look away. “right now. what do you want?”

 

“i don’t know, okay? i just--” soonyoung stammers, taking a step forward.

 

jihoon raises an immediate hand to stop him. “what about _me?_ ”

 

“what _about_ you?”

 

“do you _still_ want me?” his voice lowers, almost hesitant - afraid. “in your life?”

 

“of course--”

 

“well, you sure act like you don’t.” jihoon turns on his heels, ready to open the door, and enter the room. “i’ve known since you can barely walk a straight line.” _and it seems like you still can’t._  “do me a favor, and get your shit together.”

 

“but--” soonyoung reaches out tentatively, only to pull his hand back almost immediately. jihoon’s ready to close the door by the time he quietly adds, “i don’t know how.”

 

peeking from the small crack in the doorway, jihoon replies, “that’s not my problem, is it?”

 

_i don’t want it to be._

( _at least, not anymore._ )

 

\--

 

by senior year, soonyoung’s version of netflix and chill had to involve _studying_ for jihoon to be convinced enough to come over.

 

“come here.”

 

soonyoung did, leaned closer so that he was mere inches away from jihoon’s face. their eyes met for a second, and soonyoung could feel his pulse in his eardrums. he was about to lean in further when jihoon reached out to flick his nose.

 

“ _ow_.” soonyoung pulled back, rubbing at the stinging sensation on his face. “what was that for?”

 

“you told me we were here to study.” 

 

“don’t i, at least, get a kiss?”

 

“maybe if you pass your finals.”

 

when results came out, soonyoung found out that he _did_ , in fact, pass his finals.

 

he also got a little more than just a kiss.

 

\--

 

"you've known each other since you were five."

 

"not voluntarily."

 

 

 

soonyoung’s family moved into the house next to jihoon’s a little after their child's fifth birthday.

 

it didn’t take long for soonyoung to stumble - _literally_ \- into jihoon’s life after that.

 

jihoon found solace outside, sitting on the grass in the front yard, surrounded by the sounds of chattering neighbors and honking cars. anything to drown out the screaming that resonated in every corner of the house.

 

the yelling hurt his ears. nothing more.

 

( _that's what he tells himself._ )

 

coloring book in his lap, red crayon in hand, he concentrated on keeping inside the lines of a cartoon apple. a sudden impact on his shoulder caused his hand to slip, a jagged line drawn out of bounds, and onto the surrounding space of the page. 

 

more surprised than angry (the latter came later), he raised his head to see a chubby boy with scraped knees, dusting the grass off his matching blue shirt and shorts.

 

“what--” 

 

“i’m soonyoung!”

 

“okay.”

 

the new boy watched jihoon color, told stories about his old neighborhood, and the golden retriever they temporarily left with a nearby aunt. there was never any indication that jihoon cared enough to actually be listening, but he reveled in those badly-told tales.

 

soonyoung somehow knew.

 

sometimes jihoon read to him if he asked, from a short story book jihoon had already reread multiple times. soonyoung’s presence had begun as a neutral concept until, eventually, he became a constant that jihoon silently clung to.

 

it took soonyoung the entirety of two weeks to realize he didn’t know the other boy’s name.

 

“my name is jihoon.”

 

“nice to meet you, jihoon!”

 

“okay.”

 

without fail, every afternoon, jihoon was always greeted by a stumbling kid that eventually turned into a stumbling lanky teen.

 

that was all soonyoung seemed to do: fall flat on his face.

 

( _and, eventually, in love._ )

 

 

 

_“how?”_

 

seungkwan only bumped into jihoon a few times at the university’s broadcasting station where he sidelined as a dj for a morning radio program. jihoon had been a director for another show. every single time, seungkwan was met with nothing but a scowl before he could even open his mouth.

 

“he’s cute,” soonyoung answered with a grin.

 

seungkwan sighed, the back of his hand dramatically pressed against his forehead. “the devil can cite scripture, an evil soul producing holy witness--”

 

“can you save shakespeare for when you’re onstage?” minghao interjected, holding his head in his hands. “ _please_.”

 

“ _hey_ , jihoon’s really nice once you get to know him.”

 

“love is blind, _truly_ ,” seungkwan continued with a shake of his head. “and lovers cannot see the pretty follies that themselves commit--”

 

minghao closed his eyes. "i am _this_ close." he pressed an index finger and thumb together - similar to an _okay_ sign, but he was definitely far from it. “ _this. **fucking**. close._ ”

 

minghao loathed literature class.

 

\--

 

"we're friends."

 

"...with _benefits?_ "

 

jeonghan arrived at jihoon’s apartment a little after ten in the morning expecting piping hot tea, not shitty mediocre coffee - figuratively _and_ literally.

 

this cleanse was definitely not working for him.

 

 

( the first three days had been the hardest.

 

“tea will boost your brain health.”

 

“what google page did you get that information from?”

 

“the first page, actually. at the very top--”

 

“oh my god, joshua. shut the fuck up.” )

 

 

jihoon was the only person jeonghan would ever bother meeting before noon on a weekend.

 

even wonwoo never had that privilege.

 

jihoon served coffee bitter enough for jeonghan’s tongue to seek refuge at the back of his throat. he thought about having jihoon’s entire bag of sugar for breakfast instead, down the entire thing with creamer - like milk and cereal, except it could cause his liver to shut down on the spot. which, really, jeonghan was close to experiencing anyway if he didn't watch his alcohol consumption.

 

he couldn’t even bear the idea of sugar and caffeine hangovers.

 

 

( “any hangover not caused by taking ten tequila shots at a time shouldn’t even exist, honestly.”

 

“maybe you should get help.” )

 

 

jihoon heaved a sigh, focused on the dark abyss that was the contents of his coffee cup. " _no_. i mean, _shit_.” he refused to meet jeonghan’s questioning gaze, tinged with blatant judgment. jihoon couldn’t see it but he _knew_ it was there, embedded into the very back of his mind, oftentimes acting like the worst conscience ever - an adult version of jiminy cricket. instead of a mode of transport, however, jeonghan used his tiny umbrella to smack people in the face.

 

" _so..._ ” jeonghan’s brows furrowed, head lazily tilted to the side. “you’re _not_ dating?”

 

“we’re exclusive.”

 

“ _\--ly fucking?_ ”

 

"well, i--” jihoon paused, uncertain. “--guess that’s part of it?”

 

“what the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

 

“it _means_ \--” elaborated by extremely vague hand gestures.

 

“ _jihoon_ ,” jeonghan said, stern. he crossed his arms on the surface of the table, leaned forward to look jihoon dead in the eye. “this isn’t fucking high school. i didn’t drag my ass out of bed for you to act like a little bitch. it’s unlike you.”

 

they maintained eye contact, jihoon’s pupils shaking, until he felt the corner of his right eye twitch. defeated, he slumped back in his seat, arms hanging along the edge of his chair. “fuck if i know.”

 

jeonghan leaned back in return, expression softening. “joshua thought he was being edgy when he hated the idea of _labels_.” he started, tone softer now. boyfriends, partners, significant other - a _hindrance_. “i thought it was a genius idea to leave it out, but what did my eighteen year old ass know about relationships?”

 

 _story time by jeonghan_ was a group favorite, had its own hashtag at one point, too. they were like parables, except the moral of the story was consistently as simple as: _don’t fucking do it._

 

jeonghan focused on the specs of refined sugar around his porcelain mug as he spoke, a personal one that he kept around jihoon’s apartment.

 

all twelve of them had one in mingyu’s place.

 

 

 

 

 _tea keeps me going until it is acceptable to drink wine_ , it said on the side.

 

a birthday present from seungkwan.

 

“first of all, i _don’t_ drink tea. second, it is _always_ acceptable to drink wine.”

 

oh, how seungkwan cackled when he found out about jeonghan’s coffee and alcohol detox.

 

seungkwan received an early graduation gift in return - a pretty porcelain mug: pink, floral, and harmless. from jeonghan. when he looked inside, the very bottom said: _you’re a piece of shit._

 

[ **sms to:** mother hen ] thank u mom ur so sweet

[ **sms to:** boo boo the fool ] ur welcome

 

 

 

 

jihoon watched as the other reached out, pressed a finger against the table so the white granules stuck against his skin. “thinking about it now, it was actually fucking stupid."

 

“why?”

 

the corner of jeonghan’s lips quirked upward, but jihoon could tell he had no intention to smile. he offered a quick shrug of his shoulder before he answered, “there’s no commitment.”

 

_he could leave anytime._

 

\--

 

when it was time to send in college applications, jihoon came over to pick soonyoung up. while waiting in the kitchen, he managed to take a peek of soonyoung's papers while the other rushed to get something from his bedroom.

 

_"medical technology?"_

 

soonyoung paused by the doorway, surprised to see jihoon reading through his application, the other's own ready and tucked away in a red plastic envelope. he sniffed, _composed_ , collected the papers from jihoon's grasp to shove messily into his own blue plastic folder. 

 

it was too late to back out now, but if jihoon put it that way with mere intonation alone, soonyoung's gut instinct warned him a little too late about how this was a huge mistake. one among many he'd ever make in his short life.

 

"you told me you were taking production."

 

"i mean, _obviously_ there's a small change of plans."

 

" _small?_ you freak the fuck out at the sight of blood." jihoon watched soonyoung hastily stuff the folder into his backpack, noticed the other's lack of proper response and refusal to maintain eye contact. "soonyoung, those legs were made for coffee runs.”

 

soonyoung slung his bag over his shoulder as he started toward the door. "i'll still do your coffee runs."

 

jihoon pursed his lips, hand settling on soonyoung's shoulder before the other could walk out. "is this about your parents?"

 

"jihoon, _i_ wrote the application."

 

jihoon's brows furrowed. "but, you said you weren't going to take their shi--"

 

"you _don't_ \--" soonyoung stopped himself from raising his voice, took a deep breath. he shrugged jihoon's arm off his shoulder. "you just don't understand."

 

it rarely showed itself, but soonyoung knew it was there in the way jihoon kicked at the ground - the mixed confusion and hurt.

 

_you're right. i don't._

 

they walked to university in silence.

 

_but i'm trying to._

 

( _so, let me._ )

 

\--

 

“he’s like this chronic migraine.”

 

jun is left with jihoon in the room after wonwoo dragged a reluctant chan out to the shore.

 

 

( “i’m an adult. _damn it!_ ”

 

“maybe when you stop believing jeonghan will appear after you say his name three times.”

 

“that’s _one_ already, so stop right there.”)

 

 

he manages a crack of a smile, and a small shake of his head. he settles beside jihoon, who is a sad lump under the blankets.

 

“like, you  _wanna_ get rid of him but it’s too late.”

 

jun hums sympathetically in response.

 

jihoon having an emotional breakdown is not something jun - or anyone of them - wants to get used to. a comforting hand quietly rests against jihoon’s side, above the thick comforters.

 

jihoon mumbles pathetically, voice muffled by the pillow he’s clutching tightly against his chest. “i’m trying really fucking hard to understand him, you know?”

 

“but?”

 

“he won’t let me.”

 

( _for once, just fucking let me._ )

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i reached my word quota for this chapter like two weeks ago idk why i kept putting off editing and posting BUT this is literally the best i could do for this goddamn chapter. i'll do better in the next. and !! it's been exactly a month since i posted the last one. rip @ me
> 
> also, can i just say that i started writing this fic solely on my phone mid-last year, when my dad got a new car and dragged our asses out for a road trip. because that's what people do when they get a new car, i guess. i started posting last march, when i was either halfway through chapter 3 or a quarter into chapter 4. which was why updates were days apart. i just wanted it out because i honestly didn't think this fic would ever see the light of day. but it did. woot woot. fuckin' A. i'm proud of myself.
> 
> my friend is both shocked and disappointed that i, a soonhoon shipper, could write two chapters of verkwan and only one for soonhoon. like bitch, so am i. (but joke's on me, soonhoon has two chapter, too.) i'm setting everything on fire. (ps: belated happy birthday, my love.)
> 
> hasty after note is as hasty as this chapter. still, i hope you enjoyed!


	7. destined to explode

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> growing up sucks.
> 
> at least, wonwoo thinks so.
> 
> jun says otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you have unlocked: the (surprise) wonhui arc.
> 
> don't worry. i'm just as surprised.

chan initially refused to play in the sand when wonwoo suggested it, but jun didn't forget to bring the toys (a complete set: plastic buckets, shovels, rakes, oddly-shaped sand containers) when they headed to the shore. the youngest merely laughed in their faces, and began digging into the sand patronizingly until he realized the thought of building a sand castle wasn't such a bad idea after all.

 

a blue shovel in hand, jun asks, "fun, isn't it?"

 

"shut up. i'm just humoring you."

 

vernon and minghao join him a few moments later, taking wonwoo and jun's place in building a castle that can simply pass off as a giant mound of sand.

 

( “it's a mountain. shut the _fuck_ up.” )

 

jun and wonwoo sit under a nearby shade after ordering two bottles of beer. they watch as vernon gets sand in his eye. minghao tries to help him, while chan shamelessly laughs at the side, only to start panicking when the tide starts getting too close to his masterpiece.

 

"so," jun begins. "how was it?"

 

“how was what?” wonwoo knows exactly what jun is talking about.

 

"the admission test."

 

wonwoo hoped not to have this conversation at least for the entirety of the weekend, but leave it to jun to be openly concerned about everything.

 

\--

 

wonwoo was losing his fucking mind.

 

he could barely concentrate, face planted in the middle of a textbook as he waited for the screaming behind the walls of his room to subside. they resonated in the hallway, grew louder with each step. polished fendi leather shoes and four-inch louboutins scuff the hardwood floor - brazilian walnut.

 

an utter waste.

 

his brother hadn’t come home in four days.

 

wonwoo wore his earphones ahead of time, before his parents could even burst into his room to interrogate him. when asked about his brother’s whereabouts, wonwoo replied with silence, with claims of death metal music too loud to hear anything else.

 

( " _wonwoo? i’m asking you a question. ...wonwoo? ...wonwoo! christ, this child._ "

 

cue impatient heels trudging out and away. cue five minutes of peace. cue screaming.)

 

they stopped asking.

 

eyes pierced through the handouts in hand. small notes were scribbled in pencil along the edges, arrows hastily pointed at specific words. phrases were underlined in green ink, various paragraphs encircled in red.

 

 

[ sms to: wonu ] i hate it there

[ sms to: bro ] i do too icb u would leave me here

[ sms to: bro ] are you ever coming home

[ sms to: wonu] yeah ofc

[ sms to: bro ] when

[ sms to: wonu ] read 11:23pm

 

 

his parents would know the answer to all their own questions anyway if they didn’t spend so much of their time competing on who could scream the loudest without the neighbors calling child protective services.

 

 

 

"where's your brother?" his dad asked upon getting home -- _midnight_. not that anyone in the household cared anymore.

 

"i have a brother?"

 

an inside joke.

 

wonwoo got a simple nod in response. his mother giggled lightly, shaking her head.

 

 

 

sometimes they care.

 

most times they they don't.

 

at least, _not anymore_.

 

but wonwoo knew exactly where his brother was.

 

he also didn’t listen to death metal.

 

the earphones weren't even plugged in.

 

\--

 

wen junhui was the perfect child.

 

growing up, he was their little pride and joy. his parents would have given him the world if they could afford it, but they could barely put food on the table.

 

junhui ran on scholarships all his life.

 

if only his younger brother was just as gifted, maybe _at least_ live up to half of junhui's academic standing and accomplishments.

 

 

 

"am i mistake?"

 

"no, you're not."

 

"then why am i here?" his younger brother asked one night while junhui tucked him into bed.

 

"because god didn't want either of us to be alone."

 

junhui didn't believe in god.

 

but he _did_ believe in miracles.

 

( _his brother was one._ )

 

 

 

junhui lost his scholarship for a semester.

 

he missed the cut-off by a ( .5 ) mark.

 

"is there anything i can do? i can work at the cafeteria, clean toilets--"

 

"i'm sorry, junhui, but there’s not much we can do."

 

“give me two months.”

 

the desperate look in junhui's eyes was enough for the dean to heave out a sigh, reconsider. " _one_ ,” he stated, tone final. “you’re one of our best students, so we’ll give you one more chance.”

 

" _oh my fucking god_ \--"

 

" _language_."

 

"shit, sorry-- _shit._  i mean, _thank you_."

 

 

 

"i'm not taking your money, minghao."

 

"i told you," minghao said, flipping a page of his psychology textbook. "not _my_ money."

 

"that's even worse."

 

\--

 

wonwoo had been the original black sheep.

 

his brother wore the golden fleece.

 

"i told him not to run for that position," his mother ranted late one evening, voice resounding from the kitchen. the water flowing from the sink muffled her voice, leaving wonwoo torn between actually listening or only pretending to. he nodded when it felt necessary. "if he fails his subjects--" she clicked her tongue, leather stilettos tapping anxiously against the floor. "that boy _never_ listens."

 

_you used to say the same thing about me._

 

doing the chores herself on the weekend was, as her mother claimed, cathartic. so, househelp were only available on-call and weekdays. wonwoo hadn't seen much of them lately. granted, there really wasn't much to do since everyone in the house was busy with something, barely even had time to look at each other.

 

this was an exception.

 

wonwoo caught her mother downstairs, didn't have enough time to quietly flee and lock himself in his bedroom.

 

_thus._

 

"we haven't seen him in days," she continued, a repetitive mouthful rant. wonwoo sat on a stool at the counter, eyes on his phone, ears on whatever his distracted mind could gather. "and when that ungrateful brat _is_ home, how does he talk to me?"

 

a rhetorical question.

 

_with disrespect._

 

" _with disrespect!_ "

 

_i know, mom. me, too._

 

the front door opened, yet neither of the two present residents bother looking up. wonwoo's mother dried her hands with a fluffy towel, proceeded to put the leftovers in the fridge.

 

"hey, dad."

 

"where's your brother?"

 

"no clue."

 

"alright, good night."

 

 

[ sms to: bro ] you shouldn't have hid the election from her lol you think she wouldn't have found out

[ sms to: bro ] when did you become such an asshole

[ sms to: wonu ] did you tell them

[ sms to: bro ] no idiot it's all over facebook

 

 

wonwoo is still the black sheep.

 

most times, his brother still wears the golden fleece.

 

\--

 

while student council positions are definitely a bonus on resumes, his parents believe a perfect gpa does more when it comes to academic careers.

 

it proves you're _not_ an idiot.

 

which they thought wonwoo was for most part of his life. an A- in english just didn't cut it, apparently, and so he used this as an excuse to stay over at jeonghan's for some _tutoring_ .

 

 

 

"fuck him," wonwoo muttered, face planted against his book. "and fuck this entire family."

 

jeonghan laid on the bed, on his stomach, mindlessly flipped through english notes he never needed to begin with - _a talent_ . "you and me both."

 

 

 

sometimes wonwoo wishes he could lead as well as his brother can, but he's reveling in the fact that he's easily turned into the temporary favorite child.

 

once results are out, he's out of there, and into an apartment closer to law school. a passing score means an easy pass to liberation.

 

wonwoo can't doubt his abilities this time.

 

\--

 

jun has just as many awards as minghao, only his are mostly academic achievements sprinkled with financially-sponsored martial arts tournaments.

 

so when a scholarship to one of the top universities in seoul was offered, junhui jumped on the first opportunity to potential success

 

"i'll be back before you know it."

 

his brother wouldn't let him go, soaking junhui's shirt with salty tears.

 

he almost missed his flight.

 

_by choice._

 

( _but the fare had been paid_. )

 

 

 

"it's my asshole dad's money.

 

jun sighed heavily, exasperated. "minghao, i told you..."

 

for a moment, minghao's face fell. "i'm just trying to help."

 

jun knew. "why are you so set on paying for my tuition?"

 

a hesitant pause before minghao pushed himself off his bed, waited for jun to look at him. "i don't want you to go."

 

jun's fingers unconsciously curled into fists on top of his notes. a small smile - in gratitude and apology.

 

minghao offered one back. "none of us do."

 

jun got his scholarship back the next semester.

 

 

 

"i was almost ready to sell myself back there." the usual playful lilt in his tone was back as he gestured to himself, from head to toe. "i mean who wouldn't buy this hot piece of ass."

 

jihoon scoffed. "i wouldn't."

 

"i would," jeonghan replied.

 

seungcheol folded his arms on the table, leaning closer. he lowered his voice, if only to pretend suspicion. "so, how'd you get the money?"

 

"drugs."

 

seungcheol laughed, only to gradually stop midway when he saw jun's pursed lips and raised eyebrows. "...you're serious?"

 

there's a tense pause around the table until jun decided to break the silence. "and minghao's bank account."

 

a collective sigh of relief, with seungcheol's the heaviest one, a hand on his pounding heart. jun watched their reactions before bursting into laughter.

 

 

 

the drugs weren't a lie.

 

wonwoo snorted. "called it."

 

"which ones you have on you?" jeonghan asked, peering into jun's pouch.

 

 

 

"at least i have money to pay you back."

 

"i don't want your dirty money."

 

" _fine_." jun sat on the office chair in their dorm room, a favorite space. he spun a pen between his fingers. minghao sat on the edge of his bed. "i promise i will, though."

 

"take a million years," minghao teased, swinging his feet onto the bed to lie down. "i don't really care, and pretty sure dad doesn't either."

 

jun dropped the pen on the table, made his way to his own bed. "conscience says otherwise, my dude."

 

"that's because you're stealing drugs from the lab."

 

"to pay for my goddamn _edumacation_."

 

minghao clicked his tongue. "either way, they're gonna ship your ass back to shenzhen, my friend."

 

"yeah, but i kinda miss my bed," he admitted, slipping under the covers. "you know, back home?"

 

_and my family._

 

"i know," minghao said softly, a crack of a smile evident under dim lights. a certain - _hidden_ \- softness reserved for a few chosen people. "thanks for staying."

 

_we know it's hard for you._

 

jun offered a wide smile despite heavy lids. "thanks for being family."

 

_welcome home._

 

\--

 

“what about you?” wonwoo throws the question back. “think you’ll do good?”

 

“i can’t really _afford_ to fuck up." _in the most literal sense,_ jun wants to add, in terms of his upcoming licensure exam - _pharmacy._

 

wonwoo chuckles breathlessly, beer bottle pressed against his lips. “sucks, doesn’t it?”

 

“what does?”

 

“growing up.”

 

jun's gaze remains ahead as he speaks, an evident fondness in his eyes. "i don't think it's so bad."

 

chan screams and struggles, draped over vernon's shoulder as the latter runs into the ocean. minghao follows suit, splashing water at chan who tries to cover his face. there's laughter that follows chan's cries for help, and he attempts to grab hold of minghao's arm to pull him into the water as he falls, dragging vernon in.

 

wonwoo stares at the side of jun's face, studies the other’s expression; the subtle upward quirk of the corner of his lips, the glint in his eyes emphasized by the glaring sun. wonwoo blinks, before a crack of a smile graces his own lips. there’s a chuckle to match the shake of his head, turning his focus back on the kids playing in the distance.

 

_you're right._

 

_it’s not so bad._

 

\--

 

difficulty levels of older siblingdom varies from how much of an asshole certain younger siblings are.

 

it won't help much if you're both assholes, though.

 

[ sms to: wonu ] just explain it to them

[ sms to: bro ] i'm not obligated to do that

[ sms to: wonu] fine then i'll do it

[ sms to: bro ] mom wouldn't care if you just stopped failing your classes dude

[ sms to: wonu ] read 10:48pm

 

_fucking super._

 

_i'm trying to be a good brother, damn it._

 

\--

 

“hey,” jun starts after a few moments of comfortable silence. wonwoo finished his beer a little while ago, while jun still has half left. he had been reviewing in his head, potential exam questions, when the memory popped up. “remember when we used to date?"

 

wonwoo scoffs. "can you not?"

 

"come on. that was fun, right?"

 

wonwoo sighs heavily, shaking his head enough that bangs partially cover his vision. "we didn't even do anything remotely sexual."

 

"exactly."

 

when wonwoo turns to look at jun, the latter is grinning ahead - _genuine_. wonwoo can't help but smile himself. "yeah, you're right." he smacks jun's shoulder with the back of his hand. "that was fun."

 

\--

 

"excuse me, you're dating _whomst?_ "

 

"you heard me."

 

jeonghan sat up, and rubbed his forehead, covers falling to reveal his bare torso. he wanted to smack that smug smile off of wonwoo's face. "you made me drop my phone on my face."

 

wonwoo snorted, an arm tucked under his head. "you should be paying attention to _me_ , not your goddamn phone."

 

"is this what it was?" jeonghan asked, completely ignoring the other's statement. he shifted closer to wonwoo, who laid beside him on the bed. jeonghan showed wonwoo his phone screen, a photo on instagram - _starbucks_ , with wonwoo's account tagged on one of the two drinks.

 

[ **emperorofchina** sweeter than a caramel frap ♡ ]

 

"you ordered a fucking _frappuccino?_ " jeonghan asked, incredulous. how jeonghan could ignore the caption was beyond his best friend. " _what the fuck, wonwoo?_ "

 

"mocha."

 

"fraps are serious business."

 

"you're looking too deep into this."

 

"that's disgusting." jeonghan need not say that statement out loud. it showed evidently on his face -- an ugly, confused grimace. he couldn't stand this amount of sap. "are you, guys, in love or something?"

 

"are you jealous?"

 

jeonghan looked offended. " _no._ " he was, a little bit. _"_ the fuck?"

 

wonwoo pulled jeonghan back to lie down beside him. "jun just likes to dick around."

 

\--

 

minghao almost dropped his ipad.

 

" _what the fuck?_

 

"i just like to dick around."

 

jun knew exactly what minghao was talking about. it was just a matter of time before he told mingyu who, then in turn, will tell _everyone else_ .

 

minghao scoffed, threw a crumpled up piece of paper at his roommate. "but who's getting _dicked?_ "

 

jun spun around once in the office chair, before he faced the desk, medical textbooks open. "no one."

 

"no, really, _who?_ " minghao lightly kicked at one of the wheels. "i’m only gonna judge you _a little._ "

 

jun spun again, this time stopping to look at minghao in the eye, prove he wasn't kidding in the slightest. "i'm serious. we don’t fuck," jun said with a shrug. "probably never will."

 

minghao's mouth hung agape as he tried to process this. "but… wonwoo isn’t ugly." as if that was the only logical explanation for anyone not to sleep with each other. "are you fucking high?"

 

"a little," jun admitted with a toothy grin, eyes glassy and dazed. "but that has nothing to do with it."

 

\--

 

wonwoo couldn't get it up.

 

"that's a first."

 

"you're hot and all, but i--"

 

"thanks. i know."

 

"--don't know what's going on either."

 

 

 

"wonwoo's demi--" seungkwan gasped. "are you serious? don't joke about that kinda stuff, idiot."

 

"which demi?" mingyu asked, zoning back in after stuffing his face with a hamburger. "lovato?"

 

"moore," vernon added helpfully.

 

"neither," seokmin answered, reaching over to grab a french fry from mingyu's tray only to have his hand slapped away. regardless, he succeeded - _three fries_.

 

seungkwan ran a hand down his face. "i can't believe wonwoo's demisexual."

 

minghao stopped in his tracks, tray in hand, just behind where seungkwan sat. he almost dropped his milkshake. " _oh, shit-_ -" minghao started, loud enough for the table to stare at him in question. seungkwan choked on his bread.

 

mingyu frowned. "why, what's up?"

 

minghao clicked his tongue. "that explains a lot of things."

 

the table grew silent, gradually connecting the dots. mingyu was the first to break it.

 

"so, which demi is he attracted to?"

 

connect-the-dots was not mingyu’s forte.

 

 

 

"wonwoo makes a lot of sex jokes, though."

 

"but does he have a lot of sex?"

 

"yeah, but only with jeongh-- _oh_ ."

 

 

 

"i refuse to subject myself to your--" he air-quoted. " _\--labels._  what do you take me for? canned goods?"

 

"well, i'd definitely put you in my shopping cart," jeonghan teased, slipping into the seat beside his best friend. "what were you talking about?"

 

mingyu, with his mouth full, answered, "just wonwoo being sexually attracted to--"

 

" _canned goods,_ ” seungkwan interjected, kicking mingyu under the table.

 

jeonghan snorted. "damn, i knew you loved ravioli to an unhealthy extent, but i didn't know you were crushing on chef boyardee."

 

wonwoo pressed his fingertips together and inhaled sharply. "you fucking assholes," he muttered under his breath. as the conversation topic shifted to finals week, wonwoo caught seungkwan's eye who, in turn, smiled at him knowingly.

 

_i got you._

 

( _thanks, buddy_. )

 

\--

 

"it's okay," jun said, fingers intertwined with wonwoo's under the table. "i didn't exactly ask you out for the sex."

 

"i didn't even think about it."

 

"me neither." a fact, no hesitation. jun liked to twist the truth, keep secrets, but was never one to outright lie. "let's do something after dinner."

 

wonwoo raised an eyebrow, fork of pasta pausing just before it touched his lips. "like what?"

 

"i've got a few tricks up my sleeve."

 

when he glanced down, the corner of his lips quirked up into a more subtle version of his signature lopsided grin.

 

jun was wearing long sleeves.

 

 

 

"you like someone else."

 

"i think i love them."

 

jun chuckled. "figures."

 

"you knew?"

 

"wonwoo," jun began. a hand settled on the other's shoulder. "i know everything."

 

\--

 

it was the summer after jeonghan and joshua's first anniversary. the honeymoon phase, unfortunately, was far from over. they were dubbed the ideal couple of their thirteen-member circle; granted they're the _only_ couple to begin with.

 

"let's become one."

 

"one what? _huh?_ " wonwoo raised an eyebrow, asking the wrong questions as he passed the rolled up blunt back to jun. "the fuck are you talking about?"

 

"a couple," jun took a whiff just as wonwoo's eyebrows rose expectantly, awaiting an explanation. " _date_ ," was what he simply added after a short coughing fit.

 

" _us?_ " the pot was starting to get to him, knew this when he began to laugh incredulously. regardless, he reached out for the blunt. "holy shit, jun. you're high as a fucking kite."

 

jun snorted, handing the joint back after exhaling another puff of smoke. " _please_. i'm _always_ high."

 

"point taken."

 

"so?"

 

"so what?"

 

jun rolled his eyes, extended an impatient hand, asking for the joint back "so, do you wanna go out with me or not?"

 

wonwoo was too high to even think twice. "yeah, sure." a chuckle and a shake of his head. "whatever, man." instead of handing the blunt over, wonwoo gestured for jun to come closer.

 

jun obliged, leaning forward and almost falling off the couch. "yeah, what?"

 

wonwoo grinned, twirling what's left the blunt in his fingers. "let's seal the deal."

 

it was jun's turn to raise his eyebrows. "you mean--"

 

"ever shotgun before?"

 

\--

 

"on that weird note," wonwoo starts, reaching for jun’s half-empty beer bottle, that of which the other handed over. "heard seungcheol's hosting a bonfire tonight."

 

"where'd you get that info from?

 

"jeonghan."

 

 

 

(“so, seungcheol wants to burn shit tonight.”

 

“a bonfire?”

 

“for bad memories.”

 

“what is this? _a religious retreat?_ ”

 

“yeah, if _he_ wants it to be.” )

 

 

 

"let's form a pact, then," jun starts, grinning widely. "tonight." there's a certain glint in his eyes that makes wonwoo want to look away, pretend he doesn't hear anything.

 

"oh no."

 

"if we're not married by the time we're thirty--"

 

"fuck no."

 

"forty?"

 

"jun."

 

"i'm kidding."

 

wonwoo gives him a look.

 

" _i am!_ geez fuckin' louise. you need to chill out, dude. you've been hella antsy lately."

 

"no, i'm not."

 

"son of a bitch, you almost killed mingyu."

 

" _speaking of._ "

 

mr. tall, dark, and handsome jogs along the shore -- sunkissed in all his glory, enough for minghao to drop the plastic bucket of water on chan's foot.

 

vernon nudges him. "dude, you're gonna choke on a fly."

 

chan winces, bouncing on one foot while clutching the other. his face scrunches up into a grimace. "wipe that drool off your chin, lover boy."

 

minghao, after pulling himself together, scoffs. "i don't know what you're talking about."

 

"nice try, minghao!" wonwoo, from the shade, yells out. "but _everyone_ fucking knows!"

 

"know what?" mingyu asks, running a hand through his hair, damp with seawater.

 

"that ming-- _ow!_ "

 

"sorry," jun says, grinning as he pulls his hand back from punching wonwoo's arm. "hand slipped."

 

 

 

"waiting for seokmin?"

 

"nope," mingyu answered as he stood outside the library, books tucked under his arm. "minghao. he's still checking out some books."

 

a cheeky grin made its way to wonwoo's lips. "you know what he actually wants to check out?"

 

mingyu raised a curious brow.

 

"y--"

 

minghao flew out the library doors, and tackled wonwoo straight to the ground

 

 

 

wonwoo sniffs, rubs the bruising area. (it's jun. it'll definitely bruise.) "what the fuck do you want, mingyu?"

 

"can we talk?"

 

wonwoo feigns a gasp, a hand dramatically placed on his chest. "are you breaking up with me?"

 

jun snickers.

 

"wonwoo, come on."

 

the request is easily met with wonwoo dropping his previous facade, attention back to the kids playing in the water. "go away. i’m babysitting"

 

mingyu's bottom lip juts out into an unconscious pout, forehead slightly creasing in the way that makes him look like a kicked puppy. when he pulls this kind of stunt, no one in the group is safe.

 

wonwoo doesn't need to look up to know it's there. it's _always_ there whenever mingyu doesn't get what he wants. the only person immune is seungcheol. ("but how?" "years of tolerating the same bullshit.")

 

from the corner of his eye, jun sees wonwoo's finger twitch -- _weak_ , just like the rest of them.

 

finally, wonwoo pushes himself off the ground. " _fine_ ," he says, indignant, dusting the sand off his shorts. "make it quick because i probably don't care."

 

jun starts getting up as well, then stretches his arms over his head. "you two better get a fucking grip," he warns, arms dropping back to the side. "because if jihoon doesn't kick you out, then i will."

 

this, however, is punctuated with a wide grin.

 

it's terrifying.

 

\--

 

joshua bids his two roommates a temporary goodbye, tells them jun texted. the kids need a new set of guardians, the potential to drown ever-present in the presence of vernon.

 

"make sure no one's dead," seungcheol orders. "but i'm pretty sure at least three of them know how to hide a dead body. ask jun for a plastic shovel."

 

joshua smiles, bids seungcheol a quick two-finger salute before jogging his way over to the seaside.

 

jeonghan's sprawled on the bed he shares with joshua, seungcheol sitting right beside him. they're watching television on mute again -- a habit.

 

"i'm tired."

 

"you're always tired."

 

with a sigh, jeonghan finally pushes himself off the bed, moves to change into something he can swim in. seungcheol watches as his roommate rummages through his duffel bag before he gets up himself. nimble fingers wrap around jeonghan’s wrist, making the other turn in wide-eyed curiosity.

 

“yes?”

 

seungcheol takes a deep breath before leaning in, pressing his lips against the other’s own. jeonghan stills, arms hanging at his sides before he thinks, _get back at joshua_. finally, he finds himself easing into the kiss in a matter of seconds, confusion easily disappearing when his hand settles on the crook of seungcheol’s neck.

 

_get back at him._

 

_and that's it._

 

 

 

joshua walks up the steps of their shared bungalow, hand reaching out for the doorknob. “guys, i forgot someth--” his hand stops midair when he peers into the window to see if both seungcheol and jeonghan are still in the room.

 

they definitely are.

 

\--

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy wonhui day
> 
> apparently that's a thing. how timely. anyway, you'll find out what joshua did in the next chapters. if there are any. oh my god. rip @ me. i'm just gonna keep adding conflict after conflict bc i'm a messy bitch. sexuality is fluid yada yada me too as well wonwoo but can you believe these conversations actually happen


	8. when may i call you my own?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> two strikes before minghao is out.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the gyuhao arc pt. 1

"i hate him."

 

"no, you don't, minghao."

 

"mingyu looked like a sun god."

 

"first of all," dino adds. "gross."

 

vernon's focuses on filling a plastic star-shaped container with wet sand. "you have it bad, man." a dawning realization arrives: vernon isn't sure whether the statement is directed towards minghao or himself. he settles on both.

 

their plastic tools aren't enough to cut through the sudden thick air that surrounds them. chan wants to blame it on the salt from the sea and breeze alone (since seungkwan and jeonghan aren’t around), except the way his two other companions are keeping to themselves make it hard for him not wonder what the actual fuck is going on. chan’s jaw remains slack, pupils shifting between the uneasy two, ready to say something - _but what?_

 

"it’s an adult thing," jeonghan told him once. "maybe when you're older."

 

seungcheol was reading through the campus newspaper's comics section, looking like everyone's dad. he barely looked up. "he means next year."

 

chan wants in on the drama

 

_right now._

 

but before he can ask, they're back to concentrating on chan's sandcastle ("it's mine. i started it.") with minimal chatter. minghao pauses halfway through digging the moat, dropping the green, plastic shovel to push himself off the ground.

 

"i'm gonna go."

 

chan frowns. "to where?"

 

"somewhere."

 

neither get a chance to ask further because minghao is up and jogging in the direction of their lodging. chan notices the way vernon's face falls, the latter prodding the mound with the wrong end of a plastic rake. "i'm thirsty," vernon starts suddenly. before chan can even open his mouth, vernon is getting up as well, dusting the sand off from his hands and shorts. "want anything?"

 

_god, people really need to start telling him things._

"the void."

 

"you are one angsty son of a bitch," he comments, corner of his lips quirking up into an amused grin. "anyway, apple juice it is."

 

once vernon starts dragging heavy limbs out of the shore and to the juice bar, chan takes it upon himself to double-hand dig the rest of the moat by himself, simultaneously using the green shovel and blue rake vernon and minghao left behind.

 

("you're taking this thing too seriously."

 

"shut up and keep digging."

 

“didn’t you just say this was for kids?”

 

“shut the heck up. i’m still a child.”

 

maybe this is why they don't tell him things. )

 

when chan glances up to check on vernon, he sees the latter sitting on a stool, waiting for their drinks. he has to do a double take when he notices vernon's casual attempts at peering over at the distance. chan automatically follows vernon's gaze, his own landing on minghao's retreating figure. a crease forms on his forehead as he turns back to vernon, then at minghao, then at vernon, then at minghao, then at vernon—

 

 _oh_.

 

 

\--

 

 

"we need a new host for the morning news."

 

"what happened to the old one?"

 

minghao clutched the phone tightly in his hand, waving it in jun’s face for emphasis. "he won't answer. it's been two weeks."

 

they were walking to the student station together when jun said, "i know a guy."

 

"i need you to be a friend right now, jun.” minghao rolled his eyes. “not the friendly neighborhood drug dealer."

 

" _asshole_ , i know a guy,” jun repeated, purposely slow. “a guy that could _help_."

 

minghao raised an eyebrow, eyed jun suspiciously. nevertheless, instead of heading straight to the back office where was posted, he followed jun into the recording studio.

 

"if he's selling valium, i want in on it."

 

the guy did not, in fact, sell valium.

 

the guy also did not know what valium was.

 

 

 

 

"this is kim mingyu."

 

"i am aware."

 

"your new host."

 

"but he's an idiot," minghao stated, gestured toward the taller figure with an open palm. "no offense."

 

"none taken." mingyu grinned widely, the words registering a little too late. "hey, wait _—"_

 

"just trust me on this." jun looked minghao dead in the eye, offered him a knowing smile. it turned into a short staring competition, with mingyu standing quietly and confused between them. finally, he took a deep breath - _one, two, three_ \- before slowly releasing the air through puffed out cheeks.

 

minghao trusted jun with his life.

 

everyone did.

 

 

 

 

which was why everyone ended up watching the morning news.

 

( _no one fucking watched the **morning** news._ )

 

"why is the student union so cramped?" seungkwan asked, entering the radio booth. "it’s, like, 9am, and there’s a mob in front of the tv."

 

jeonghan yawned, showed seungkwan his phone screen - a direct livestream.

 

_this is kim mingyu delivering the latest news happening around campus. central student council elections are coming up—_

 

"no way."

 

" _yeah way_."

 

jeonghan turned his phone back to himself so he could continue pretending he was doing his job, and that was to make sure reporters were doing _their_ job. "the girls are having a field day."

 

seungkwan snorted as he put on his headphones. "maybe i should invite daddy long legs on my show." he flipped the switch, the light outside the booth turning red. "good morning. this is dj boo with the hottest morning tunes. but first, nominees for student council president are out..."

 

 

\--

 

 

minghao’s wall of awards, certificates and medals proves that everything is a competition.

 

 _all’s fair in love and war_ , they say.

 

minghao hates losing.

 

( maybe he really _is_ better off with vernon. )

 

 

 

 

as curious, drunk college students would, mingyu asked minghao if he liked anyone and who - a dumb game of truth or truth between two friends because truth or dare is even dumber with only two people, and no one else’s foot to lick.

 

“that’s two questions.” regardless, this was met with a scowl and quivering, "n-no one.” in a _general_ sense, which came as no surprise at all. “do i look like the feelsy type to you?”

 

mingyu’s laugh gave minghao's stomach odd (and rather painful) fluttering feelings.

 

“don’t tell me you need to throw up,” mingyu teased when he noticed the look on his best friend's face.  “didn’t peg you for a weak ass.”

 

minghao might as well vomit dead butterflies. “this was your idea of fun? getting drunk on a school night?”

 

“that’s one thing off my bucket list.”

 

“god, you’re such a loser.”

 

it was mingyu who passed out first, on his worn-out couch with an arm dangling off the edge. a tipsy minghao stumbled along the apartment, picking up the empty bottles to put away in the kitchen before he dropped back to lean against the side of the sofa. he heaved out a sigh, turned toward his sleeping best friend, only to flinch at their unexpectedly close proximity.

 

“you’re such an idiot,” minghao muttered under his breath, unsure then who the sentiment was directed to. he shifted completely, sitting on his heels as he reached out to brush messy bangs away from the other’s sweaty forehead. “i fucking love you,” he whispered right in mingyu’s ear. “you know that?”

 

he received no response.

 

tequila made people do brave things.

 

( if brave amounted to stupid. )

 

 _strike one_.

 

 

\--

 

 

" _look—_ "

 

wonwoo pulls out a pair of sunglasses from his pocket, puts them on as he takes a seat on a swing. “ _can’t._ ”

 

“—i'm _sorry_."

 

the playground is empty.

 

"you better be." _but i'm not the one you should be apologizing to_. "what the fuck is wrong with you?"

 

"i wasn't thinking."

 

"when did you ever?"

 

mingyu heaves out a defeated sigh, takes the empty swing right next to wonwoo. his long legs bend under the seat, making him sway lightly. " _never_ ," mingyu answers softly. "that's kind of the point."

 

there's a silence that engulfs them. the only sounds come from the crash of the ocean waves, the rustling of palm trees, and their sandals scraping the sand.

 

 _guilt_ is what wonwoo thinks this is. the clawing in his chest that forces him to spare mingyu a glance, lets the sunglasses fall down the bridge of his nose.

 

"i'm really fucking sorry."

 

the way mingyu's face has easily fallen at his own apology makes wonwoo want to gouge his own eyes out. _there it is_ \- the look of a kicked puppy. wonwoo hates this overgrown rottweiler with a burning passion.

 

_goddamn it._

 

"fine."

 

"fine?"

 

"you're forgiven."

 

 

\--

 

 

"let me guess."

 

jun opens the door to be greeted by a sweating and panting minghao. one hand on his knees and the other on the wall beside the doorframe, minghao breathes out, "don't fucking start."

 

jun isn't about to ( _yet_ ). "you wanna know who mingyu likes."

 

minghao swallows thickly, runs a hand through his damp hair once he manages to straighten back up. “how did—” a sharp inhale. "i mean, _duh_. of course you know. _of course_."

 

jun offers minghao a sheepish smile. he leans against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. "sorry, man. can't tell you."

 

"fucking _christ_ , junhui. at least help me out here.”

 

 

 

 

that is exactly what jun had been doing this entire time.

 

granted, that is exactly what he's been doing with everyone else, too, and - _maybe_ \- he's gotten some strings tangled halfway through this entire ordeal.

 

( keyword: _maybe_. )

 

jihoon begs to differ.

 

"this is all going to blow up in your face."

 

none of them know save for jihoon who, over time, had noticed jun's little matchmaking attempts within their relatively large group of friends.

 

jun's nonchalantly sipping at the remnants of his caramel frappuccino as they waited outside mingyu’s apartment, whipped cream left untouched to gather at the bottom of the cup because saving the best for last is a thing, but so is tooth decay.

 

"i'm used to things blowing up in my face."

 

"if you mean what i think you mean, then, one, you're a disgusting fuck, and two–"

 

mingyu jogged down the staircase before jihoon could swear jun out any further, his usual toothy grin, blunt canines exposed, ready to greet his friends. "sorry, the elevator's broken."

 

"don't you live on the eighth floor?" jihoon asked, brows furrowing slightly as they began walking to get lunch.

 

jun gave mingyu's shoulder a punch. "mingyu, my man, you're as fit as a fiddle!"

 

"pretty sure no one under sixty says that."

 

mingyu winced, rubbed the bruising area. jun really needed to stop hitting people. "fit as a wh–"

 

" _anyway_ ," jihoon interjected before they had to explain why mingyu was being compared to a tiny violin. he gave jun a wide-eyed look before subtly nodding toward mingyu, as if to say _get it over with_. "jun."

 

"ah, right." jun handed jihoon his whipped cream cup, before rummaging through his backpack. he pulled out two tickets and a flyer, waved them in front of mingyu's face. "vernon's band is playing this friday."

 

mingyu took the flyer first, read through the headline with furrowed brows. "vernon's in a band?"

 

jihoon licked his lips free from whipped cream, muttered, "my thoughts exactly."

 

mingyu glanced at jun's hand. " _two_ tickets?"

 

jun held himself back from reaching out, and smacking the cup away from jihoon’s grasp just to save what’s left of his whipped cream. "i'll be busy, so i thought minghao might want to receive the utmost _privilege_ of going in my stead."

 

"why do you think that?"

 

jihoon shut his eyes. _here we go._

 

"because best friends like to hang out with each other, mingyu." jun always had a way with ~~excuses~~ words. "plus, minghao looks like he needs a break."

 

"how do you know?"

 

"we're roommates, gyu."

 

jihoon rubbed his temples.

 

"right."

 

"don't you wanna be a good best friend?"

 

"i do."

 

jun raised his eyebrows expectantly, waved the tickets in hand. " _so?_ "

 

"so?"

 

jihoon rubbed the bridge of his nose. "take the damn tickets, gyu. drag his ass away from those thick-ass textbooks before i beat you with them."

 

jun raised a hand up to jihoon’s face, eyes still on mingyu as he spoke, "minghao just asked me for some adderall."

 

minghao only ever asked for benzos.

 

"like," mingyu's eyes widened. "the _drug?"_

 

jun blinked, took mingyu's hand and curled the latter's fingers around the tickets. "sure."

 

mingyu bid them goodbye right after shoving their healthy, college student-budget, fast food meal in his cheeks, looking like he’s ready for the winter. something about minghao needing a hand at the station.

 

mingyu ran, as a best friend would.

 

( “how many times do they gotta say it?"

 

"it's starting to sound sketchy." )

 

“that was generous of you,” jihoon began, reaching for a tissue to wipe his fingers free from ketchup.

 

"i was gonna invite wonwoo but,” a shrug. “i have a paper due next week."

 

"you do know vernon..."

 

"i know, _i know_ ," jun says. "what's the worst that could happen?"

 

seeing vernon along the shore, kicking at the sand while minghao longingly stares at mingyu should be enough of an answer, albeit a late one at that.

 

_ah, shit._

 

knowing everything isn't all that it's cracked up to be.

 

 

 

 

“i don't know."

 

"what?"

 

jun looks both sides before he gestures for minghao to come closer. when the latter does, jun closes his eyes, takes a reluctant breath. "i don’t know who mingyu likes.”

 

“bullshit.”

 

jun raises both hands, palms up. “i can’t read him, minghao. i just can’t." jun's jaw remains slack as he shrugs his shoulders. "there’s probably elevator music playing in his head. he could be straight for all i fucking know.”

 

"oh, _boy_. if everyone finds out the oracle said those three magical words."

 

the genuine sound of utter defeat in jun’s voice feels foreign. as it seems, mingyu isn't only minghao's weakness.

 

fingers curl into the collar of minghao's muscle tee, and jun pulls him in until their faces are mere inches apart. jun's eyes are wide in warning. "you can't tell anyone. my reputation will be tarnished. i need everyone to keep believing i have shit on them."

 

"but you don't."

 

"mingyu's a special case. i have tea against you." minghao squints, and jun lets him go. " _lots_."

 

with a scoff, minghao makes a half-assed attempt at straightening his shirt by giving it a few light pats. "like what?"

 

jun merely grins, offers the other a quick wink – or a blink. ("stop trying, jun." "let me fucking practice.")

 

it's upon remembering that he and jun were roommates that minghao decides to keep his mouth shut.

 

_better safe than sorry._

 

no one else has to know about his stuffed kermit.

 

 

\--

 

 

"can i tell you something?"

 

"oh, so we're doing heart to heart sessions now?"

 

mingyu swings to his side to bump shoulders with wonwoo. "asshole."

 

wonwoo bumps back. "i mean, did you really have to ask?"

 

"it’s just, i know how you feel, i guess," mingyu starts. "about jeonghan."

 

wonwoo snorts. "doesn't everyone?" he kicks sand in the direction of mingyu's feet. "don't tell me you're in love with him too.

 

"of course not. i’m just trying to be relatable.”

 

“then spit it out.” wonwoo frowns, taking his sunglasses off, and shoving them back into the pockets of his khaki shorts – the ones jeonghan says makes him look like one of those fraternity assholes. when mingyu starts hyperventilating, wonwoo punches him on the shoulder. "you need to calm the _fuck_ down.”

 

"give me a minute."

 

there’s another pause long enough to allot a second punch, this time on mingyu’s thigh. "are you about to confess or something? because i’m not down with– "

 

"i'm in love with minghao."

 

"oh, jesus."

 

 

\--

 

"what's up?"

 

"the fucking laptop has a virus. seungcheol needs it to edit, like, asap."

 

"let me see."

 

minghao, who had pretty much given up at that point, slid the laptop over to, who he liked to call, the resident idiot. (or that _one_ tech guy, to most, really.)

 

mingyu began a rapid-fire typing session until a program popped up on the screen with binary numbers minghao never quite managed to understand – a weakness. finally, in no more than a minute, the laptop was back in minghao's hands.

 

“wait, how did–  ”

 

"there you go."

 

"are you sure?"

 

"yeah, i cleaned most of the laptops here the other day. tell cheol he can use any one to edit."

 

minghao's mouth hung agape, words stuck in his throat.

 

two raps were made on the door before jihoon peered through the sliding glass window of the student broadcasting office. "gyu, you're on in five."

 

"my cue to leave." mingyu gave minghao two quick pats on the shoulder before following jihoon out. for the next five minutes, minghao was left alone to wonder if sapiosexuality was really a thing.

 

because _damn_.

 

 

 

 

jeonghan was still pretend-watching the morning news – this time, among the squealing girls at the student union - when minghao approached him the next day. "oh, yeah. he's for real. personal was wiped clean of viruses. all i had to do was ask."

 

minghao clicked his tongue. "how much porn do you watch?"

 

"not much.” there was a crack of a smile on jeonghan’s lips, eyes on the screen. “i'd rather do the do myself.”

 

"maybe you should check _yourself_ for viruses."

 

jeonghan turned to him then, bottom lip jutting out in thought. "you're right.” he moved to leave, squeezing past the gaggle of girls. “i'll ask mingyu."

 

"wait, no– "

 

 

\--

 

 

“this is a revelation.”

 

“god, it feels so good to finally let that out.”

 

“damn, i owe jeonghan twenty dollars.”

 

“what?”

 

 “nothing.”

 

 

 

 

“i think mingyu’s into that tiny chick from the accounting department,” wonwoo began a week before the trip. he leaned against seungcheol’s kitchen counter, arms crossed over his chest. “think we can have joshua get her number?”

 

jeonghan busied himself with preparing dinner: instant ramyeon. “oh no,” jeonghan started, filling wonwoo’s bowl with noodles. “he’s not into girls.”

 

“there’s like three straight people in this group, jeonghan.” wonwoo craned his head to the side, eyebrow raised as he watched. “don’t take that away from him.”

 

jeonghan snorted. “there is not one straight person in this group.”

 

“dude, i can smell his body spray from a mile away.” wonwoo rummaged the drawers for chopsticks. “anyway, i’ll bet you ten dollars for it.”

 

“twenty.”

 

“you’re on.”

 

wonwoo shouldn’t have challenged jeonghan’s gaydar.

 

 

\--

 

 

minghao likes to pretend he spoke shit english to get out of shit situations when, in fact, he was better at it than everyone else in the room.

 

jun knows.

 

( _obviously_. )

 

only a few people know the extent of minghao's abilities. jun comes first, then seungkwan (both of which like to keep tally of everyone’s personal business). seokmin knows how to take a hint, and vernon's generally oblivious.

 

then, there's mingyu.

 

 

 

 

"are you possessed?"

 

"what?"

 

"they say pig latin can summon demons.”

 

"first of all, pig latin - not a real language. second of all, that was russian, and you're getting assassinated."

 

 

 

 

mingyu took a semester of mandarin just because there were no other language subjects left. seungkwan was lucky enough to take the last slot for french, but mingyu was lucky enough to know two people who spoke chinese.

 

( “wrong person,” soonyoung said. “i speak japanese.”

 

“oh, shit. right. sorry.” )

 

 

 

 

jun’s building was on the other side of campus, and he was running late to class with heavy textbooks in his arms when mingyu decided it was a good idea to catch up to him mid-struggle. jun felt like his legs were about to break in half. meanwhile, mingyu was barely out of breath.

 

“can’t.” jun panted. “gyu, i have to memorize formulas.” he waved mingyu off with an added, “i’ll ask minghao for you, though. see ya!”

 

minghao was more than happy _not_ to oblige seeing as he had no time for games, acting as his father’s secretary and personal assistant in-between classes and earning himself a measly five minutes of leisure time while he was at it.

 

“ _please_ ,” mingyu begged, hands pressed together as he knelt beside minghao’s desk. the latter was typing away at his laptop so fast, mingyu expected keys to be flying everywhere. “i’ll buy you dinner for a month.”

 

“i can afford food, mingyu, but thanks.”

 

it was when mingyu pulled out the _best friends_ card that did it.

 

minghao had to redo his entire month’s schedule.

 

 

 

 

“alright, introduce yourself.”

 

“my name is kim min–”

 

minghao shut his eyes, pinched the bridge of his nose. “in chinese.”

 

“oh, right.”

 

two hours of going in circles later, minghao pushed the textbook back to mingyu. “tomorrow, we’re going over characters.” with a sigh, he thoughtlessly muttered under his breath in mandarin, " _why am i in love with such a moron?_ "

 

"let me guess." a pause, then a gasp. for a second, minghao felt like his heart was about to rip through his throat until mingyu said, "you want to eat wonton noodle soup?"

 

minghao blinked. "correct," he said, anyway. "i love wonton noodle soup. how'd you know?"

 

mingyu tapped his temple. "i'm a fast learner."

 

"'course you are." minghao reached out to ruffle mingyu's hair from across the table, earning him a wide, proud grin in return.

 

minghao forgot how to breathe.

 

mingyu bought him dinner, anyway

 

wonton noodle soup.

 

_strike two._

 

 

\--

 

 

"so, what's the problem here?"

 

"vernon called dibs."

 

"that's literally not how it works."

 

mingyu raises a brow. "oh? what are you doing, then?"

 

“this is not even remotely the same thing.”

 

"dude, let me tell you." mingyu stands up. "jeonghan is–" mingyu sucks in a breath through his teeth, just in time to stop himself.

 

"what?"

 

"not my place to say." he pats wonwoo's shoulder. "come on, let's head back to beach."

 

wonwoo's lips turn downward, genuinely impressed, if not surprised. "wow, learning when to shut up?"

 

mingyu grins. "working on it."

 

 

\--

 

 

“i highly suggest you talk to vernon.”

 

“highly," minghao echoes.

 

“speaking of which, i haven’t been high in weeks, my guy. i'm having withdrawals.”

 

"thank god you brought all that pot with you."

 

"how did you know about that?"

 

minghao gives him a look. "seungcheol is gonna kill you, you know?"

 

"not if he doesn't find out," jun answers, leaning against the doorframe. "or _ask_ for some. either way, why did you think i brought plastic shovels?"

 

“to bury bodies,” minghao replies with a chuckle and a shake of his head. “got it.”

 

"also, there's a bonfire tonight."

 

"oh?"

 

“it’s about to get lit.”

 

 _literally_.

 

 

 

 

"you really need to stop butting into people's love life," jihoon comments once jun kicks the door close behind him. he watches jun plop down on his back on the bed. "this is all going to blow up in your face."

 

"i am sensing deja vu."

 

jihoon turns off the television, gets ready to head back out. "asshole, i tell you this every chance i get."

 

"you should really talk to soonyoung, though "

 

"what the fuck did i just tell you?"

 

jun snickers, throws a pillow over at jihoon. "i'm serious." harmless, he is, when it comes to jun and jeonghan. otherwise, touch a single strand of hair on his head, and he turns into a rabid raccoon.

 

jihoon catches the pillow before it hits him, only to throw it back, hitting jun square in the face. "so am i."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FINALLY. THE GYUHAO ARC.
> 
> this might be the longest chapter i've written so far. i literally had to cut out some parts, and move them. so, i'm sorry if this ended on an abrupt note. i guess you can tell which chapter comes next, but i swear it's a happy one because it's time for beach activities!! yayayay
> 
> ( honestly, just kill me now. )


	9. in the same old sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> beach activities can only act as distractions for so long.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the soonhoon arc pt. 2
> 
> follows non-linear/disruptive narrative

jihoon had been to most of soonyoung's little league soccer games since they were seven. he'd stand on the bleachers, wave around makeshift pompoms he made using old newspaper and his mom’s old glossy magazines.

 

that was until he'd discovered a major upgrade with colorful crepe paper.

 

jihoon ended up with sweaty palms stained a vibrant yellow and orange from staying under the sun for longer than he’d want to.

 

but, once the game was over, and soonyoung laced their fingers together, own palms stained with the same ugly shades, jihoon forgot how much he hated soonyoung’s favorite colors.

 

( yellow, especially. )

 

 

one too many times, during holiday season, he’d complain about how red and green were a bitch to remove from pale skin.

 

( wonwoo had referred to him as snow white more times than he could tolerate.

 

“don’t flatter yourself,” wonwoo said. “i call jeonghan sleeping beauty.”

 

seungkwan was cinderella.

 

jun sighed. “cut it out already.”

 

“alright, mulan. chill.”

 

"damn it," seungkwan whined. "why does he get to be the cool one?" )

 

regardless, he’d keep up with the entire ordeal all throughout december if only to feel festive.

 

“christmas cheer and all that bullshit,” jihoon explained over a cup of hot chocolate he barely even touched. ("i'm waiting for it to cool down." "it's _hot_ chocolate.")

 

seungcheol took the seat beside jihoon, sliding jeonghan his own mug across the table. “‘kay, scrooge, we get it.”

 

jeonghan snorts. “bah humbug, amirite?”

 

conversation came to a temporary halt at mingyu's entrance. he shivered, shrugging off his coat. he turned to the dining area where his friends sat, and his gaze immediately landed on jihoon.

 

"ah, yes,” he began, grinning. “the grinch is here.”

 

while wonwoo held up a glass of eggnog, jihoon raised a green-stained middle finger.

 

 

the familiar voice among the chatter and cheers always reached him, and soonyoung constantly stopped mid-game to proudly wave at jihoon.

 

one time, the ball hit him square in the face. jihoon immediately dropped his pompoms, and pushed past the unhelpful bellowing _oohs_ and _ahhs_ of the audience until he reached the bench where soonyoung staggered over to.

 

"you moron."

 

"you're distracting."

 

"i was cheering for you," jihoon retaliated, gently pressing a wet towel under soonyoung's bleeding nose. "like i have been for the last decade."

 

"almost."

 

they were sixteen.

 

"who the fuck's counting?"

 

soonyoung scrunched his nose up, like an idiot, and ended up wincing. "can i at least get a kiss to help with the pain?"

 

"maybe if you win." jihoon gave soonyoung a hard pat on the back, partially pushing him back onto the field. "now, fucking focus. get back out there and make me proud."

 

soonyoung did.

 

( he always does. )

 

jihoon had always been soonyoung's number one fan.

 

\--

 

screaming always bounced off each corner of jihoon’s household that he constantly found himself in soonyoung’s doorstep in the middle of the night, head hung low, and bangs hiding red-rimmed, puffy eyes from someone who’s already seen it countless times before.

 

not that soonyoung ever pointed it out.

 

or cared, for that matter.

 

“i know it’s late, but.”

 

jihoon didn’t need a reason for soonyoung to welcome him into his home, and into his arms.

 

( in jihoon's case, home and soonyoung's arms might as well be synonymous to each other. )

 

“sorry,” jihoon breathed out against soonyoung’s shoulder. his arms remained limp at his sides, and he feels soonyoung’s hold simply tighten around him. “for, you know, being a handful.”

 

soonyoung smiled against jihoon’s hair. “don’t worry," he replied. "i have two hands.”

 

\--

 

jihoon had his nose buried in an algebra textbook, earphones plugged in, and pencil tap tap tapping away on his study table to drown out the shouting from beyond the walls of his room. a typical afternoon, until his parents burst into his room, and decided to turn him into an unwilling mediator.

 

"tell your father he's an asshole who never learned how to listen!"

 

"you're such a control freak!"

 

"jihoon, are you going to let your father talk to me like that?"

 

jihoon was as neutral as switzerland.

 

without looking up from his textbook, he said, loud enough to pierce through the shouts, "why don't you just get a divorce?"

 

that silenced them.

 

_finally_.

 

 

 

when jihoon's parents finally separated, his dad moved out, and jihoon decided to stay behind to cohabitate ("living makes it sound like i enjoy it.") with his mom.

 

"i hate my mom."

 

it was movie night at soonyoung's place, but their attention had been away from the movie not even halfway through. _the texas chainsaw massacre_ wasn't exactly a spectacular film. according to jihoon, anyway.

 

"why'd you stay?" soonyoung asked, stuffing buttered popcorn into his mouth, then wiping his fingers onto his shirt.

 

jihoon scrunched his nose at the sight, then shrugged. while he feigned nonchalance, soonyoung knew jihoon was anxious from the way his fists repeatedly opened and closed on his lap.

 

"i hate my dad, too." jihoon didn't bother pausing the movie when he got up to refill his cola. "anyway, it's closer to school."

 

_and closer to you._

 

 

 

soonyoung hadn't seen his parents in a week, save for exactly two minutes on monday when they gave him his allowance. not that his parents ever initiated small talk, or asked him how he was doing, for that matter. if it wasn't for jihoon, soonyoung would be stuck with the grouchy house help.

 

they kept each other company - like they always had growing up.

 

jihoon spent most nights at soonyoung's place, sleeping on an inflatable mattress on the floor beside soonyoung's bed.

 

( "the bed is big enough for the both of us, you know?"

 

"we haven't reached that stage in our relationship."

 

"what? we literally just made out five min—"

 

"good night." )

 

“you think they'll notice if we disappear?" soonyoung mindlessly muttered, chewing onto the end of his pen. a new document was open on his laptop, the cursor blinking after the first and only word on the page - _the_.

 

silence, save for the sound of jihoon rapid-fire typing on his own keyboard.

 

soonyoung raised his gaze to watch jihoon, only to be met with the back of jihoon's laptop, which was completely covered in anime stickers. jihoon gave no response, obviously set on finishing an essay that's due the next day. soonyoung, for the last two hours, had been busy laughing at cat videos on youtube.

 

soonyoung waited another beat before adding, "maybe we should run away."

 

wishful thinking.

 

jihoon didn't look up, didn't stop typing. “or we could get our own place.”

 

another pause.

 

soonyoung beamed.

 

\--

 

jihoon was clad in his favorite pajamas, and about to draw the curtains when he saw it.

 

soonyoung, from his own house across, was grinning widely as he held a piece of paper up in front of his own window. words were scribbled so hastily, jihoon had to squint to read it properly.

 

_good night._

 

jihoon blinked, reread the two words again and again written in soonyoung's messy handwriting.

 

it took another moment before jihoon began rummaging through his desk for a marker, and flipped open the nearest notebook onto a blank page.

 

_go the fuck to sleep._

 

soonyoung reached for another sheet.

 

_i love you._

 

jihoon pursed his lips, slowly, mindlessly drawing a large heart on another page. he tapped his chin with the end of the marker, staring contemplatively at his quick masterpiece. he thought for a minute, could feel soonyoung waiting with his wide, dumb ass smile. the one that hid his eyes. the same one that made jihoon's heart do painful flips in his chest.

 

he set aside the cheesy note, flipped to another blank page.

 

_see you tomorrow._

 

soonyoung's grin was unfaltering as he gave his best friend a final wave before jihoon finally drew the blinds. once out of sight, jihoon couldn't help his own smile, the uneven, scribbled heart left on top of his desk, ready and waiting.

 

much like his own.

 

( "that sounds like something taylor swift would write about," jeonghan commented once.

 

"she already did," seungkwan replied.

 

jihoon scoffed. "you would know, wouldn't you?"

 

"that song deserved a grammy." )

 

\--

 

“this sucks,” jeonghan mutters under his breath, lazily splashing saltwater on jun who is floating on his back close by.

 

jihoon sits in a black inner tube, legs dangling along the edge, toes dipped into the water. “i know.”

 

 

 

this was a lot harder than he expected.

 

"you don't need this." seungcheol took the bottle of tequila away from jeonghan's grasp. he was just about to reach for the vodka, only to have jihoon pull the bottle close to his chest.

 

as it seemed, fast reflexes present themselves in times of desperation.

 

"you're all on alcohol ban until you get in the water."

 

jun tried to salvage the shot glasses on the table, protectively wrapping his arms around them. he turned to jeonghan. "can he do that?"

 

"no, he fucking can't." jeonghan tried to grab the bottle back, only for seungcheol to hold it further away. "what the fuck gives, cheol?"

 

"we're here to have fun."

 

jun nodded toward the shot glasses in his hold. "we were just about to."

 

seungcheol threw his head back, heaving a sigh, before he forcefully pried the other bottle out of jihoon’s grasp.

 

jihoon indignantly crossed his arms over his chest. “obviously we both have very different definitions of fun.”

 

“look," seungcheol tried, pleading. he shut his eyes, inhaled through his nose. "even vernon managed to put his phone down for once, so can you please just get in the water."

 

jihoon scoffed. "uh, yeah. i don't think so."

 

“isn’t it too early to be drinking?”

 

jeonghan, someone who drinks tea-quila (“ _ha!_ get it?” “seek help.”) for breakfast, gave him a look.

 

jun pursed his lips. “it's never too early for vodka shots, cheol.”

 

"it's literally two in the afternoon."

 

"yeah," jeonghan replied matter-of-factly. "it's a cancerous hour."

 

"get in the fucking water!"

 

\--

 

jihoon kissed him - _hard_.

 

they stumbled along the hallway, lips pressed against each other, until they reached soonyoung's room. soonyoung felt the back of his knees hit the bed before jihoon pushed him down, back hitting the mattress. jihoon straddled soonyoung's hips, arms on either side of his head.

 

"jihoon, are you okay?" soonyoung breathed out when jihoon pulled back to let his lips travel down the other's neck.

 

"never better," he muttered against soonyoung's skin.

 

soonyoung cupped jihoon's cheeks, pulled him up so their gazes met - both dazed, and head spinning.

 

they just got home, stumbling along the way, from the christmas party hosted by none other than their designated father figure, choi seungcheol.

 

mingyu, as opposed to using shot glasses, brought the bottle of tequila around the room, and poured its contents straight into everyone's mouths.

 

( "nope, nope, nope," minghao said, running off before mingyu could catch him.

 

seungkwan pried mingyu's arms off his neck. "enough! enough!"

 

jeonghan, perpetually tired, just let it happen. )

 

soonyoung blamed the alcohol.

 

jihoon blamed  the way soonyoung always made his breath hitch when he did even the smallest thing, like smile that stupid smile, the one that hid his eyes.

 

it was that night that jihoon, through his drunken stupor, knew he wanted to be with soonyoung for the rest of his life.

 

soonyoung had already been a part of most of it.

 

_i love you_ is said with each kiss. _stay with me_ , told by lacing their fingers together.

 

"are you sure about this?" soonyoung asked, gently running his thumbs along jihoon's cheekbones.

 

jihoon leaned into the other's soft touch. "i'm sure about _you_."

 

limbs tangled, and bodies pressed against each other, refusing to leave any space in between. fingers desperately clutched the sheets. back arched when pain turned to bliss. sparks flew each time their lips found each other.

 

the next morning, jihoon woke up sore with a bad hangover. he mentally cursed mingyu, and then himself. when the latter part of the night flashed through his head in a quick blur, he felt his face heat up.

 

soonyoung stirred beside him, inching closer, an arm lazily draped over jihoon's waist. "you okay?" he muttered sleepily.

 

"sure."

 

silence, save for the sound of breathing.

 

"you're mine, okay?"

 

jihoon's heart stopped. he turned, back to the other to hide his reddening cheeks. he pulled the covers up until his mouth, mumbled something almost incoherent, but soonyoung caught. jihoon felt soonyoung smile against his shoulder. soonyoung replayed the words in his head each night after that.

 

_for as long as you want me._

 

\--

 

the party was at its peak.

 

empty alcohol bottles and cigarette butts littered the floor of soonyoung's living room. his parents were both out of the country - living the life in france - for a medical convention, and would be back in three days - just enough time for the house help to clean up the mountain of mess they were about to leave behind.

 

the dance team was celebrating its three-peat thanks to the team's dynamic duo: soonyoung, with his choreography, and jihoon, with his music mixes.

 

jihoon wandered through the celebrating crowd, bumping into sweaty bodies, until he finally found soonyoung slumped against the wall, half empty bottle of beer in his hand. his third one, after a round of tequila shots.

 

from across the room, two bystanders observe.

 

"that doesn't look like a good idea," chan commented at the sight of jihoon approaching soonyoung, words muffled by a mouthful of chips. he cradled the entire bowl in his arm.

 

jihoon stepped forward, reached for the bottle, but soonyoung was quick to stagger back.

 

minghao stood beside chan, sucked in a breath through clenched teeth. "ah, shit here we go."

 

jihoon had to shout to compete against the blaring music. "soonyoung, you've had enough."

 

"why do you care?" soonyoung slurred, pushing himself off the wall, only to wobble slightly in the process. "leave me alone."

 

"soonyoung, you're drunk."

 

"tell me something i don't know."

 

"you're miserable."

 

soonyoung lifted his head. "you'd know how that feels like," he muttered with a bitter laugh. "i guess misery really does love company."

 

jihoon's brows furrowed. he grabbed soonyoung by his shoulders, peered into the other's glazed eyes. "this isn't you."

 

soonyoung shrugged him off. "maybe you never really knew me."

 

jihoon wasn't sure if the hard thumping in his ears was his heartbeat or the loud bass coming from the speakers. he let go. "i'm going home."

 

"go."

 

jihoon stood there for a good minute, watched as soonyoung struggled to stay upright.

 

another moment passed.

 

jihoon left.

 

 

 

"i don't know what you said, but," chan said the next morning as he rubbed soothing circles on soonyoung's back. soonyoung had his forehead planted against the cold edge of the toilet. "jihoon looked like he was about to cry."

 

a hot cup of coffee waited in minghao's grasp.

 

( "a hangover cure," he explained. "made by the capitalist society."

 

chan sighed. "it's _just_ starbucks." )

 

"what do you remember?" minghao asked.

 

"losing," soonyoung mumbled.

 

"soonyoung," minghao began. "we won the competition."

 

soonyoung felt like throwing up again. "i know."

 

\--

 

“yo, soonyoung!” seokmin greets just as he enters their cabin, finding soonyoung miserably splayed across the bed. seokmin presents his usual unfaltering grin as he throws himself on the cushion beside his friend.

 

soonyoung sits himself up, a curious brow raised. “hey,” he starts slowly. “what’s up?”

 

“we’re going kayaking.”

 

seungkwan appears by the open door with three sets of paddles ready in hand. “you in or what?”

 

 

 

“keep paddling!” seungkwan shouts, looking back at his companions.

 

soonyoung pants, chanting under his breath. “left, right, left, right, left—”

 

seokmin shrieks when they almost hit a nearby rock formation.

 

 

 

closer to the shore, another trio watches.

 

jeonghan blinks. “think they know they’re just going around in circles?”

 

jun drapes an arm around jeonghan’s shoulder, other hand running fingers through his damp hair. “and you're just going to keep watching?"

 

jihoon snorts, now neck-deep in the ocean. he almost chokes on the seawater. “obviously.”

 

\--

 

the only reason jihoon joined the dance team - aka the only reason he’ll join anything that had to do with leaving the house for longer than necessary - was because of soonyoung.

 

it only helped a little that jihoon apparently had a knack for freestyle.

 

but joining the dance team had only been fun until it took all of soonyoung's time.

 

"you can leave first."

 

"it's been weeks, soonyoung."

 

sweat dripped down the side of soonyoung's face. he met jihoon's troubled gaze in the wall mirror. "i gotta finalize the choreography."

 

competition season was over.

 

jihoon walked over, hand finding its place on soonyoung's shoulder. his shirt was damp with sweat. “we don’t see each other anymore.”

 

soonyoung shrugged it off. guilt twisted in his gut when he saw the dejected look on the other's face. but only for a split second. he picked up his phone, turned on the music.

 

“we’re not seeing each other, jihoon.”

 

“soonyoung—”

 

“stop acting like i’m your boyfriend.”

 

by the time senior year began, jihoon quit.

 

he hasn’t danced since.

 

 

"better to focus on building my resume."

 

minghao pursed his lips. "don't you miss it?"

 

"not really," jihoon admits. "but i miss _him_."

 

\--

 

"i don't hate it."

 

seungcheol, cheek resting against his palm, and a smug smile on his face, starts, "say that again?"

 

jihoon scoffs, tempted to break his glass of orange juice against seungcheol's skull. "fuck off."

 

jeonghan chews on the end of his straw. fresh coconut juice is officially his favorite drink after vodka-spiked lattes.

 

( "it's alcohol. it cleanses your body of toxins and sins."

 

"you should really try going to therapy."

 

"or church." )

 

seungcheol snorts. "alright," he obliges, leaning back against his seat, and crossing his arms. "we can talk about _something else_."

 

"you know what?" jihoon replies much too quickly, already pushing himself up from the table. "i feel like going for another swim."

 

jeonghan tugs on jihoon's wet shirt, pulling him back down. "no, you fucking don't." he moves the coconut shell toward jihoon. "you're looking a little dehydrated. how about some coconut juice?"

 

"that's fucking disgusting."

 

" _you're_ fucking disgusting."

 

" _guys_."

 

seungcheol's head is in his hands when jun slips into the seat beside him, sliding a plate of fresh fruit in the middle of the table. "what are we talking about?"

 

"don't fucking start."

 

jun takes the hint, but opposes just because he's that kind of person. "you can't keep avoiding him, you know?"

 

"i sure as hell can fucking try."

 

jeonghan snorts. "but you won't."

 

"he doesn't want me." _anymore_ , he wants to add. "he's made that very clear."

 

"he's been following you around all day looking like a complete idiot," seungcheol says, shoving a toothpick into a watermelon dice.

 

"granted, he looks like that on the daily."

 

"honestly," jeonghan reaches over for a pineapple slice. "it's pathetic."

 

"he's sorry." seungcheol pauses to pop the piece of fruit into his mouth. "an understatement, by the way."

 

"to be fair," jeonghan adds. "soonyoung did treat him like shit."

 

jun picks up an orange slice. "oh, how the turn-tables."

 

"close enough."

 

jun snorts. "sounds like you've got an angel and the actual devil on both your sides, jihoon."

 

"listen," seungcheol says. "half this group is emotionally stunted, and lacks proper communication skills."

 

"you're one to talk," jeonghan mutters.

 

seungcheol ignores him. "believe me. you'd rather hear this from us."

 

jihoon shuts his eyes, takes a deep breath, and sighs.

 

\--

 

the only clubs jihoon initially planned to join were ones that could make his resume look like he, time and time again, didn't hope for an accident (a _blessing_ , is what he likes to call it) that would have him dead before the age of twenty-three.

 

by sophomore year, jihoon, an aspiring corpse, decided to subject himself to a lifetime of nine to fives (or nine to twelves because  agency life just refuses to cut anyone some slack) by joining both the college newspaper and broadcasting station, just to make sure his resume looked better than any other applicant interested in the same position.

 

( sure enough. )

 

turned out, jeonghan thought the same thing.

 

“looks like we’re both in.”

 

“different departments, though,” jihoon replied as he looked through the list of new members pinned against the student union corkboard.

 

they didn't bother checking online.

 

 

( “call me old-fashioned, but,” jihoon said just as they shuffled out of the classroom. “i’m gonna wait for them to post the list. like, at the union."

 

“oh, great,” jeonghan replied. “that’s what i was gonna do.”

 

another student seemed to prefer the traditional way as well. jihoon and jeonghan watched from their peripheral as another set of wide eyes quickly scanned the list until,

finally, he saw his name. he did a small victory dance as he pranced toward a boy with pale skin, foreign features, and brown, shaggy hair tucked under a beanie.

they would later come to know this student as seungkwan.

 

“you did a little shimmy back there, at the student union,” jeonghan told him a year later, a few minutes before seungkwan had to go on-air. “it was cute.”

 

as he adjusted the sound board and plugged in his headphones, seungkwan narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in thought. “i have no memory of this.”

 

he does. )

 

\--

 

one bad day, chan, when he was still one of the newest members of the dance team, had been pushed by the rest of the older members to ask why jihoon wasn't attending practices anymore. it was a terrifying experience, chan recalled. an extremely large contrast to soonyoung's usually cheerful facade.

 

soonyoung was tying his shoelaces, eyes shrouded behind bangs that stuck against his damp forehead. he didn't look up. "he quit," was soonyoung's only reply.

 

no one ever asked again.

 

 

 

jihoon sat by the window, and the waiting game began - night after night for weeks on end. soonyoung's curtains remained closed. the paper had crumpled along the edges where jihoon's fingers clutched tight.

 

the words written - _i miss you_ \- met the bottom of his trash bin, useless and forgotten.

 

much like he was.

 

\--

 

soonyoung feels a tap on his bare shoulder just as he drapes a red towel over his head, blond hair dripping with seawater. when he turns, he almost stumbles back, side hitting the wooden table.

 

jihoon stands before him, a sheet of paper in his hands.

 

_can we talk?_ it says.

 

seokmin looks up from his phone when the table shakes. just as he opens his mouth to speak, he freezes at the sight.

 

_oh._

 

seungkwan arrives with three bottles of water, throws one toward soonyoung who catches it in time. “everything okay?”

 

“yeah,” soonyoung responds, draping the towel around his neck, unable to take his eyes away from jihoon. the corner of his lips twitch upward as he tries to suppress a smile. “i'll be back.”

 

the other two watch as the gap between the retreating figures gradually lessen, the back of their hands brushing against each other. a good sign, maybe. “should we follow them? make sure none of jun's plastic shovels go missing?”

 

seokmin grins widely, uncapping his bottle. he spares them a quick glance. “pretty sure we don’t need to do that.” a pause. “for now, anyway.”

 

 

 

"jihoon, i—"

 

jihoon holds up a hand. "listen first.”

 

_i was never really good at that,_ soonyoung admits to himself.  he nods.

 

they reach one of the empty bungalows. for a moment, jihoon wonders where his roommates are, including the status of mingyu's life span, or if wonwoo's already buried his body somewhere in the vicinity. jihoon was also slightly hoping jun would be around, _just in case._ he takes a seat on one of the porch steps, and soonyoung sits a step below.

 

jihoon takes a deep breath. "i don't know what i did," he starts, closing his eyes. "but, i'm sorry."

 

the guilt doesn't dissipate this time. instead, it makes soonyoung's stomach drop, heart clenching painfully in his chest. he stares at the sandy walkway that leads to the porch as he waits for jihoon to find his words.

 

"also," jihoon continues after a quiet moment. "you are an absolute dick."

a breathless chuckle escapes him, and he raises his gaze to meet the other's own. soonyoung expects anger, resentment, only to find desperation in the way jihoon looks at him with glazed eyes and pursed lips. "can i talk?" he asks, slowly.

 

jihoon chews on his bottom lip, nods.

 

"i'm so fucking sorry."

 

"i'm honestly so tired of hearing you say that," jihoon replies. "i need a _reason_."

 

"i don't have one."

 

"bullshit."

 

"it's true." soonyoung runs a hand down his face. "maybe i just... didn't want you to see me so miserable."

 

jihoon scoffs. "we're supposed to be best friends. you've seen me at my worst."

 

"and i wasn't ready for you to see me the same way," soonyoung admits. "maybe it was a cry for help. who knows?"

 

"i _tried_ to help you."

 

"i needed you to understand.

 

jihoon's voice rises. "then _help_ me understand."

 

soonyoung peers into the other's eyes.  "i'm sorry, jihoon."

 

a pause, as their gazes meet.

  
jihoon asks, tentative, "you were in and out of my life for the last three years. how can i be sure you won't leave me again?"

 

"trust," soonyoung replies. _a slippery slope_. he swallows thickly. "i just need you to trust me again."

 

for a good minute, jihoon doesn't respond.

 

with a sigh, soonyoung lets his head rest against the side of the other's knee, thankful that jihoon doesn't shift away. instead, as if on instinct, jihoon lets his fingers gently run through soonyoung's hair.

 

"i'm not a fucking plaything," jihoon whispers.

 

"i know."

 

"so, you can't treat me like one."

 

soonyoung lowers his gaze. "i know."

 

they stay that way for a good minute. silence, save for the faint sound of the waves crashing against the shore.

 

finally, soonyoung asks, hesitant, "are we okay?”

 

another pause.

 

jihoon cracks a smile, one that soonyoung doesn’t see. “we will be.”  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> issue resolved: 1 of 27487284
> 
> damn this is probably the longest chapter i've written (so far). so, thanks to my ever-patient beta, 31X11, for tolerating the constant shitstorm that is this fic. i've been trying to write this thing for 6 months. i'm so sorry.
> 
> short story: i write this garbage on my phone, but my old one broke before i managed to backup and save parts of the five FUCKING chapters i've already written. so i had to write this chapter from scratch. anyway, HELLO FRIENDS.
> 
> if you're reading this, it probably means you've stuck around. so thanks for that. know that i haven't given up on this fic (yet). there's just a lot of rewriting going on. don't worry - the jeongcheol/jihan arcs are coming up real soon, so prepare for trouble (and make it double). also, i found out there are tons of soonhoon shippers reading this fic, so shoutout to you, guys.
> 
> comments (and even suggestions if you feel like it) are greatly appreciated! for more updates (or if you want a new friend), you can follow me on twitter: @minghaos_ ( or @wonhans_, if you prefer peace and quiet ) make sure to introduce yourself so i can follow back! i honestly need more svt mutuals. 
> 
> otherwise, see you in the next chapter!


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